


All I want is...

by Captaindick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - Organized Crime, BDSM, Dom Stiles, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Slow Build, Spanking, Sub Derek Hale, Undercover Cop Derek Hale, Undercover Missions, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captaindick/pseuds/Captaindick
Summary: Derek's heart was racing. He could still turn back, let Isaac out, let the op run as planned watching from the sidelines. But he also knew that there was no way he could do that. Knew it from the moment chief Finstock denied his request to be the one sent undercover.He had to do it this way. It was his right to be on this case. And if Finstock decided to demote him to mopping floors for the rest of his career, heck, even if he got fired with dishonor, it'd be worth it, as long as he got John Stilinski behind bars.~Stiles is a son of a crimelord, Derek is a cop sent undercover to get close to him.~More tags will be added as the story progresses.





	1. ...to have this chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, I have the whole thing drafted out and half of it written down, waiting to be edited.  
> I'll be adding more tags and more characters and the rating will go up in further chapters.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some light kinkshaming in this chapter, blink and you'll miss it. There's talk about crime and death and there are some assumptions made. Also a mention of a panic attack, but it's called something different. Tell me if you need anything tagged!  
> ~  
> If you read any of my other stuff - I am really sorry for the wait and I'm working on it too!

 

Derek's heart was racing. He could still turn back, let Isaac out, let the op run as planned watching from the sidelines. But he also knew that there was no way he could do that. Knew it from the moment chief Finstock denied his request to be the one sent undercover. 

Derek parked the pontiac firebird assigned to this op two blocks away from the final destination, giving him time to calm his breathing and inform Boyd about what he was about to do. Both Boyd and Erica were on shift right now and while Derek hated to make them be the bearers of bad news, he knew that he'd rather one of them tell Finstock about this than anybody else.

The phone rang for a couple of seconds before Derek heard Boyd's usual "What."

"You have less than two minutes to get me a new identity and about half an hour to back it up with facts Stilinski can find if he looks for them."

Boyd was silent before repeating "What," but his tone was mad this time.

"Isaac is- Where's Isaac? I'm calling him."

"I locked Isaac at my place. He's fine, but you should go let him out, or go fix my door if he decided to break it down. His phone is in my mailbox."

"Derek, you're not thinking straight. If you turn around now-"

"I know what I'm doing. I've been with Isaac every step of the way. I know his identity down to the last detail-"

"You're a shit partner, Hale." Boyd's voice was disappointed, but him using Derek's last name meant this wasn't a talk between friends anymore, Boyd accepted that Derek was doing this and switched into work mode.

"Erica says you're a writer. Joseph Brown. Try not to talk about it too much, but say you're writing under another name. Had nothing big published, but you're working on a novel about LA's crime scene. You'll have to figure out how much and what to say on the spot. The rest: your hometown, the sadism - you take that from Isaac's backstory." Boyd sighs. "You're such an idiot, Hale."

"I know." Derek slows down, almost there now, hesitant to hang up. "Tell Isaac I'm really sorry."

"If you don't die today, call us once you're sure you're clear and we'll fill you in on what to do next."

"Thank you, Boyd."

"Yeah, don't thank me. Wait till Finstock hears about it." Derek cringes at the thought. "Good luck."

"Yeah. Thanks." the line goes dead. Derek takes a deep calming breath and braces himself as he takes the final steps towards the metal door in the alleyway.

He had to do it this way. It was his right to be on this case. And if Finstock decided to demote him to mopping floors for the rest of his career, heck, even if he got fired with dishonor, it'd be worth it, as long as he got John Stilinski behind bars.

~

Derek doesn't hear the buzzer when he presses the button, but the door slides open without a sound. Derek doesn't miss that it's a heavy duty steel door with more locks on the inside than the outside. The man that opens looks like a military trained gun for hire with his posture and neat cut. An impassive stare and a demand of 'When is a door not a door?" prompts Derek to give a cocky smug smile.

"When it's a jar." This is the most ridiculous riddle and Derek would never have guessed that this was a password, but it works, their informant didn't lie. The security guard steps inside, letting Derek pass, and locks the door behind them. There's another guard inside, same build, same posture. He tells Derek to follow him and leads him down a dark corridor to an elevator. He enters with Derek, pressing the button for one of the top floors. If their informant gave them the right information - this floor was a place for the patrons to mingle, a sex-free zone reserved for shop-talk, making connections and sharing stories about your sexual conquests. The penthouse, as well as the lower floors were supposedly reserved for private rooms, equipped to the brim with any device and toy you might think of, and a bunch you'd never even think of. And the basement was supposed to be a place for the Doms to showcase their submissives, with all kind of perverted fantasies playing out down there.  
Derek sighs, righting the cuff of his shirt, the last sign of nerves he'll allow himself. The last time he can be Derek Hale for the foreseeable future. He's Joseph Brown now. A cocky writer coming from money who found out about "Roscoe's" from a crooked politician and instantly wanted to get in on the more dangerous kind of fun you could have at the club. Rumor was the club was responsible for human trafficking and though there were never any bodies the police was sure a lot of the "staff" ended up murdered by the wealthier members. The senator that let the name of the club slip out during interrogation said he never saw anything weird or off at the club, and Erica scared him pretty well so it wasn't likely he was lying. But him not seeing anything didn't mean it didn't happen. And if the op didn't end up going as planned, Derek at least hoped that he'd be able to expose "Roscoe's" for what it was.

Why was he at the club if it wasn't even the objective of the operation? Well it was a place Stiles Stilinski frequented on the regular. The spoiled rich brat was the son of Johnny the Cage, or the Sheriff of LA, as the lowlifes called him. The Cage had LA's underground world under his heel. You name a crime and sure it lead back to the Cage. But not with enough evidence to get him into court. It was always on of his men getting caught, a bailout coming not long after, sometimes with a neat note indirectly telling the LAPD to fuck off.

Infiltrating the Cage's gang was impossible. But Stilinski has a son. A spoiled loudmouthed brat who spent his time wasting daddy's dirty money on parties, drugs and an elite BDSM club called "Roscoe's." Word on the street was he loved to torture and morally scar his sexual partners. That Mieczyslaw "Call me Stiles" Stilinski had a bodycount on his conscience. But while his daddy was looking after him Mieczyslaw would keep getting away with it. So the LAPD found a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Isaac's role in this, that Derek stole from him, is of a best friend for Mieczyslaw. Someone the kid can party with, someone who gets his passion for torturing people, someone Mieczyslaw will feel like he can share his secrets with. And, hopefully, those secrets would include incriminating his father.

While Isaac was getting ready and trying on the personality of a sociopath, Derek was doing the same, in secret. He already was fluent in Polish, he'd listen in on every conversation and know things Stilinski wouldn't just tell him outright. While Isaac had to learn the language from scratch. Derek was perfect for the mission. He begged Finstock to put him on the case. He promised to do anything and everything for the possibility. But Finstock was adamant in his decision. He said Derek was too close to the case, too emotional. All while yelling at him and mentioning his Grandmother. So Derek decided he had no moral ground in stopping Derek from what he was about to do. He did feel guilty about Isaac. Isaac was his friend, and a very bright kid with a big future ahead of him. He was perfect for the operation. But Derek _needed_ to be the one to to do this. So he hopes Isaac will be able to forgive him. He hopes Erica and Boyd won't end up abandoning Derek, siding with Isaac and deciding Derek was a shitty friend.  


Only a part of him says it'll still be worth it if he can just get John Stilinski behind bars for what he did to his parents. As long as he gets revenge, Derek doesn't really care if he ends up losing his friends in the process, or if it costs him his life.

 

The guard leaves him in a spacious dimly lit hall and rides the elevator back down, while Derek looks around. There's obviously only one way to go: through the double doors, framed by heavy velvety curtains. The matted glass of the doors, as well as the patterns on them, prevent from seeing anything more than shadows of silhouettes, so Derek doesn't linger. Joseph Brown wouldn't. He'd know exactly what he was here for and wouldn't have the patience to loiter.

As soon as Derek enters, he's approached by a girl dressed in black. She's wearing high heels, a short pencil-skirt, a bra and a harness. The top of her face is covered with a simple black mask. The girl is holding a champagne tray with two glasses on it and Derek spots other girls and boys like her, spread out through the spacious lounge, chatting people up, serving drinks. They don't look malnourished or abused, but then again, this was the lounge. The torture chambers were down below.

The girl that met Derek smiled up at him.

"Champagne?"

Derek scoffed, his face taking on an unpleasant condescending grimace.

"You don't have anything that doesn't ...fizzle? I was told this was supposed to be an ELITE club."

The girl frowns at him, but the frown is soon replaced by a professional smile.

"The bar's at the far corner, right there." She points towards the bar with an elegant gesture and Derek can just hear her telling him where he could actually go and how far he should shove it. As Derek's walking towards the bar, he takes in the room. There's the staff he noticed before, two security guards, and the members themselves, sitting at the bar or at the tables. It's pretty quiet so Derek supposes the Stilinski kid is yet to show up.

Derek slaps a thousand on the bar and orders a whiskey on the rocks. Leaning against the bar, he keeps examining the room. He sees some faces he recognizes from social media and from big politics. Some he doesn't recognize, but he's pretty sure if Erica or Laura were with him they could name all of them off the bat. But Derek's here for one person and that's the only face he needs to be able to recognize. Derek downs his whiskey and orders one more, thankful for his tolerance for alcohol and for the big meal he took beforehand. He didn't like the feeling of a full stomach, going into a mission, but if all went well, he wouldn't end up doing anything athletic, and he needed the food for the alcohol to not cloud his senses. He always could not drink, but that drew suspicion faster than if he'd walk in in his police uniform.

The girl that met Derek disappeared for a while, but now she's back, without the champagne tray. She strides determinately towards the couches, probably beckoned over, and Derek watches her sit next to a man, his back turned to Derek, so all he saw was short brown hair and broad shoulders. The girl whispered something into his ear, making the man turn to face her, revealing his profile to Derek. His heart stops for a second. Because it's him. It's the Stilinski kid. That's his upturned nose and full lips. Those are his cheekbones, that's him. And then the kid turns to look over his shoulder, brows furrowed, his eyes finding Derek's. Shit. He should've looked away, but it's too late now, so Derek just lifts a brow in question, not moving from the spot. The brat's face lights up in a wide smile. This is what Derek could only have hoped for, but his brain chooses this exact moment to remember that he is winging today with no backup to speak of, running the operation rogue.

Stilinski says something to the girl, making her smile, before getting up in one bolt, flailing his arms so as to not fall back down, and Derek watches him as he gingerly walks over to him, a spring in his step, smiling at people and throwing in a word here and there, making this relatively short distance incredibly long.

Derek's nerves are eating him up all the way, clawing at his throat and choking him, up. And then Stilinski is in front of him, eyes sweeping Derek's form from head to toe and back, and Derek is _ready_.

"Hi. You're a new face." Stilinski leans on the bar matching Derek's pose.

"Are you here to shmooze or do you know who I can talk to about going to the basement and having actual fun?"

Derek doesn't miss the flash of irritation on the kid's face, before he's back to smirking at Derek. The younger Stilinski looks so different in person. It's obviously still him, but maybe it's the clothes, or maybe it's that it's not blurred footage of him drunkenly falling on his ass; but Mieczyslaw could even be called attractive in his dark gray three-piece suit and a blood-red shirt, eyes, the color of Derek's expensive whiskey, studying him intently.

"Not very subtle, are you," the kid muses. Derek calls him "kid", but Stilinski is just a few years younger than him. He looks more his age now than when wearing his signature hoodies and it's giving Derek whiplash. Could he have a personality disorder or is this deliberate? "Shmoozing is an important part. Let me ease you into it."

Stilinski plops on the bar stool and orders "something fun" from the barman, giving the man an over exaggerated wink. Derek can't help but notice how dark and long his eyelashes are, but he shakes himself off of these thoughts.

Drink ordered, Mieczyslaw's attention is back on him:

"So, what _have_ you heard about the club? Only good things, I hope?"

"Very good." Derek leers. "That you could get away with almost anything. As long as you pay the right price."

Stilinski accepts his drink that turns out to be a colorful fruity cocktail and starts playing with the straw with his mouth instead of drinking it.

"The membership is pretty expensive. But the club guarantees absolute anonymity." Stilinski's eyes sparkle with mirth. The little shit. Derek can't help but wonder, so he asks. He needs to know, to be sure that the boy isn't just a rich kid with a behavioral problem, but an actual criminal.

"You ever did it?" Derek lowers his voice and hopes he sounds excited. "Torture someone to death?"

At this the kid's jaw flexes, his smile gone. He places his untouched cocktail on the stand.

"You need to leave." Derek watches him signal someone over and then one of the security guards starts making his way towards Derek. What the hell just happened? "I want to give you a chance to leave with dignity, but you can get your ass kicked if you'd prefer that."

"What- What are you playing at? Who do you think-"

"I'll walk you to the elevator." is Stilinski's reply as he places a forceful hand around Derek's bicep. Derek has the presence of mind to yank his arm free off of Stilinski's grip and stomps to the door, brain working in overdrive. He can't cause a scene but he needs to stay here, he needs to hook the kid somehow, he needs to promise something, he needs to say something that'll make this lowlife want him to stay. Only whatever Derek thought, and whatever Isaac was getting drilled about for months seemed to have the opposite effect.

Derek's walking, both Stilinski and the guard following him a couple steps behind. The kid opens the door for him, hand outstretching over Derek's shoulder and Derek doesn't even react, no pushing Stilinski away and raging about being able to do that on his own. Somehow they got something wrong. Somehow this persona, this sadistic rich playboy Derek was supposed to be, was getting the opposite reaction out of Stilinski. He was supposed to become best friends with Derek, he was supposed to love the cocky attitude and the disregard for human life. But for some reason Mieczyslaw Stilinski wasn't falling for it.

Derek's heart was racing. He needed to stop thinking "why" and instead start thinking "how." How to get it right before getting shoved out of the club with no chance to return, with no chance to ever get close to Stiles Stilinski again.

They're at the elevator's doors now and Derek still doesn't know what to say or do. He turns around to look at Stilinski, glances down at the elevator button, but Stiles isn't pressing it, watching Derek with amusement, instead. The security guard is standing by the wall, not too far from them. Is he giving them some kind of privacy? Mieczyslaw's voice interrupts Derek's thoughts:

"How many did you actually kill?" he asks, grinning all the while. Derek doesn't know what to think of it. Was it all an act back there? Did he bring Derek here to actually show him the torture chambers?

Derek hesitates with his answer, staring into Mieczyslaw's amber eyes. This isn't what he should be doing. He is given another chance, but he just doesn't think it's going to work the way he trained for it. He dug his own grave, so he might as well just add another foot. He looks down, going for embarrassment.

"I didn't."

"That sounds more like it. Nobody likes a liar. The club's all about honesty." Derek nods, not lifting his head. The kid talks like the club is somehow his. It isn't. None of the legal work tied it to the Stilinskis. Then again, Derek knows better than to trust a piece of paper.

"Will you be honest with me from now on?" he's sussing, as if Derek were a little child. Derek wants to rip his throat out. With his teeth.

"Yes. I'm sorry." he hopes he sounds sincere.

"Good boy." Derek lets himself look up after that. Who does he think he is? Stilinski is grinning down at him. He fishes in his jacket pocket and produces what looks like a business card. He hands it to Derek, holding it carelessly between two long fingers. "I'd like it if you called me. So we could discuss what you really came here for. And if we hit it off I'll look into getting you back to the club."

This time Stilinski does press the button for the elevator. He turns around on his heels and strolls back into the lounge, not sparing Derek a second glance.

As a guard is escorting Derek back outside, Derek holds on to the card in his hands for dear life. He just met Mieczyslaw Stilinski. And the kid was nothing like the police thought. He wasn't loud, drunk and bragging about the crimes he got away with. Instead, from what little time Derek got with him, he seemed collected and calculating, maybe somewhat disturbed, but Derek wasn't a psychiatrist so he couldn't be sure. Also he probably wanted to fuck Derek. Derek was pretty sure about that and it wasn't a confidence thing. The 'good boy' was a dead giveaway, if anything. Derek didn't even get to give him his fake name. Yet the kid was already making advances on him, which was better than nothing. He'll just have to see where it goes. The important thing was - Derek had Mieczyslaw's contact number. It didn't work the way it was supposed to, but it worked. He was in.

~

Derek doesn't call Boyd until a few hours later, when he's had a shower and thought the meeting through in his head a million times, settling on the couch of Isaac's rented apartment he was supposed to live in for this operation. Derek swiped the key when he was picking Isaac up from his place. He really hopes Isaac doesn't hate him now.

"You're alive." is what Derek's met with. Boyd's voice is calming and takes some of the stress from this day, from the months Derek was lying about everything and getting ready to do exactly what he did today, away.

"Just barely." he jokes. And then there's Finstock yelling into the phone, Derek flinching away and holding the receiver away from his ear.

"OF COURSE YOU'D BARELY SURVIVED! IT WASN'T YOUR OPERATION! YOU JUST CAUSED LAHEY A PROMOTION AND A PTSD ATTACK OR SOME SHIT!" Derek gulps. He knew Isaac was abused as a child. But he didn't think locking him in his apartment would cause a reaction. He wasn't thinking straight back then. He curses at himself. Even if Finstock is over exaggerating, Derek is still a shittier friend than he thought he was. He tunes in to Finstock's yelling, and then Boyd must have wrestled the phone away.

"Talk." Derek loves Boyd.

"He's not what we thought he was. He wouldn't tell me about the tortures. He almost kicked me out for mentioning abuse. I think he's into me. He gave me his number. I'm supposed to call him. Change everything in my backstory that might hint at me being violent. He probably wants me to bow before him or some other power play shit."

"You okay with it?"

"What do you think?"

"We could pull you out. Everything's already gone too far off script."

"No." Derek answers before Boyd's done talking. "I can take care of myself. And if he tries to hurt me I'll have something to bring him in over."

"Fine." Boyd says after a moment of silence. "So, I'm sending you "your" laptop. It'll have "your" works. Some crappy articles that already exist. With links to where they were posted. The manuscript is in an encoded folder and it's empty. Nobody's writing your novel for you. Erica says to remind you that it's about gang violence and LA's crime scene, so if you ask Stilinski anything - you'll have the book as an excuse. Finstock is saying really disturbing things right now-"

Then the phone must've been wrestled out of Boyd's grip again. And it's Finstock.

"YOU'LL NEED SOMETHING TO PROVE YOU'RE INTO SUBMISSION! I'D SEND YOU SOME PERSONAL ITEMS BUT THEY'RE PERSONAL, I CAN'T SEND THEM! YOU HAVE TO HAVE A VIBRATOR AT HOME! WHO DOESN'T OWN A VIBRATOR?! BOYD! BUY HALE SOME QUALITY HANDCUFFS, YOU LOOK LIKE A GUY WHO KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT QUALITY HANDCUFFS! GET HIM A COLLAR, THE WHOLE SHTICK! GO CRAZY!" the line is silent, as is Derek. He checks but Finstock didn't hang up. Finally Boyd talks:

"He's one crazy dude. Issued cuffs are the best, everybody knows that." Derek kind of hates Boyd because he can't tell if he's being serious or if he's joking right now. "The laptop will be there today, you'll have to wait for the clothes and the sex toys. Erica and I will get you something tomorrow. I guess winging it worked out for you, so keep that up."

And before Derek has a chance to say anything else, Boyd hangs up. Fuck. This is not how Derek saw this evening going. At all.


	2. ...to get this done.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles meet up outside of the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end notes for the dubcon warning. Also there's some bad BDSM etiquette, but no actual sexual acts take place in this chapter.
> 
> ~  
> While there's no sex yet, I thought I'd change the rating.

Joseph Brown's apartment is a nice homey place that Derek explores in the dark, the outside illumination providing just enough light. The walk-in closet was filled with fine suits and classy casual wear, and didn't really fit Derek. They were meant for Isaac after all. Derek thought the clothes didn't fit Brown's personality either, but he'd have to see what the team would pick for him.

Derek went to "Rosocoe's" wearing his own tight-fitting jeans, a henley and one of his better pair of shoes and it seemed to work for Stilinski. Now Derek's just in his underwear, not having anything comfortable enough to walk around in.

After the closet Derek inspects the rest of the room: two bedrooms, both with beds with sturdy heavy frames, perfect for using handcuffs or ropes, now that Derek was thinking about the possibility of it. Only Isaac was supposed to be enjoying handcuffing people, while Derek was supposed to enjoy being tied up by the Stilinski brat. And at least for a while Derek would like not to dwell on it, he'd have to live it soon enough.

The furniture is surprisingly homey, only there aren't enough throws. Laura filled Derek's place with the warmest softest throws and blankets, and while Derek complained, he absolutely loved burrowing in them with a cup of hot chocolate. He gathers the only two he can find and throws them on his bed.

There's no hot chocolate in the kitchen, but there's tea, so Derek fixes himself a cup while he waits for the laptop to be delivered. His burner phone doesn't have any contacts, he won't be calling anyone he knows anyway. But he really wants to talk to Laura. He's used to talking to her at the end of the day. After the death of their parents he and Cora grew apart, but Derek and Laura became even closer. It was hard to imagine that they wouldn't be able to see each other for however long it took to lock up the Cage, but it was worth it to Derek.

The package is delivered to his door in another hour and a half and Derek realizes he answered in his underwear only because of the flustered delivery guy. He makes sure to sign it with a signature vaguely looking like "Brown." When he unpacks it he finds a laptop with a password and a login taped to the screen, a bunch of notebooks in different sizes, some lined, some with blank white pages, and a couple of pens and pencils. Some of them look like they were bought at the dollar store, but there are professional expensive pens too. He knows because Laura loves those. He supposes this is exactly what he needs for his rich but talentless writer persona. The pens and notebooks are probably the reason the delivery took so long. Derek's pretty sure Finstock sent someone to buy all of this last minute, instead of just packing it for Derek along with his clothes.

He'll need to start writing bits here and there, to make it seem real, if this place gets searched by Stilinski's men, once they hear he's been talking to his son.

Derek boots up the laptop, reading through the articles, to get a feel of "his" style of writing. Thankfully, it at least seems like they used all the articles from one writer. Lucky they could find one that'd cooperate so fast. The folder with the manuscript is password protected and the text file is empty, just as promised, except for a "crimes in LA bullshit" written there.

It's already late, so Derek brushes his teeth and goes straight to bed. As a kid he used to fuss and twist and turn and would spend half the night adjusting the covers. Now though - he just sleeps and hopes he doesn't dream.

~

Derek still doesn't have his clothes, and if Boyd wasn't kidding, sex toys, so he spends the morning exercising, getting comfortable around the flat, picking a favorite spot, moving the furniture around. He memorizes where the kitchenware is, tries to write, but his mind is blank. He had a couple of years in the past where he just skipped from one thing to another, going through interests and jobs and college courses like it was nothing. At one point or another Derek was a bouncer, a baseball player, a stripper, an artist, you name it. He didn't try his hand at writing though. All of the soul searching had to stop when their parents were killed. It changed him and his siblings. Laura was already attending med school, she changed her major to criminal pathology. Derek stopped wasting money and time on things he thought might be interesting and enrolled into the police academy. Their youngest, Cora, left for college, only writing home when absolutely necessary, and ended up becoming a professional dancer. Derek never saw her perform, but Laura said it was magnificent.

Derek finds a favorite spot on the cushion on the wide windowsill. The view outside isn't the most picturesque, but Derek finds that the busy street rushing by below calms him and he's sure the neon signs are going to look really pretty in the evening. He didn't get a proper look yesterday.

Derek flips open a notebook and starts writing whatever comes to mind, opening the notebook in the middle and adding a sentence there, flipping to the back and writing a word only to cross it out messily. He admires his handywork and hopes this looks like he might actually pass for a writer.

After ruining a couple more notebooks in the same manner and leaving them all over the place, he starts to get worried. Shouldn't his wardrobe be there already? Was the place really under surveillance? Was it impossible to get it here without rising suspicion? Was it intercepted?

Alright. Derek had to stop with these kind of thoughts. There were a lot of reasons other than Derek's immediate go-tos of doom and gloom. He'd wait till tomorrow and if by then the clothes didn't come, he'd call the station. But for now he needed to calm himself.

Derek found some loose sweats and a t-shirt that fit him, because he wasn't going to wear the jeans from yesterday, they were his tightest pair and he wore them all of two times. One when Laura bought them for him and forced him to, the second was yesterday; and he wasn't going to parade in his underwear all day long and greet yet another delivery person in just his briefs.

Nobody calls and nobody shows up that day. Derek cooks for himself, thankful that the fridge was stacked. He didn't want to leave the place in case Stilinski did get someone to look into him and they'd find it still had Isaac's clothes and didn't have a bunch of other stuff that'd suddenly appear the next day.

This time falling asleep is harder, too much unused energy pent up in Derek, too much worry about tomorrow and what'll it bring. He feels a little awkward doing it in this place, but it's his home for the next foreseeable future, so it's only proper that he "break it in". Derek jerks off not thinking about anything in particular. He falls asleep pretty soon after coming.

~

He's eating breakfast, some toast and scrambled eggs, when the security signals that someone's at the door downstairs.

"It's Sherwood's dry cleaning. We have your clothes." says a familiar voice and Derek hurries to buzz Isaac in.

Both Isaac and Erica are there, dressed in matching uniforms, looking like twins with this get-up and their matching curly blond locks. Derek's so excited. He didn't think he'd get to see a familiar face this soon. And Isaac is here, which means he wasn't too mad at him.

As soon as he locks the door the two drop their pretenses, leaving the rack of clothes at the door, making themselves at home. Isaac plops on the couch and Erica rummages through his drawers, finding a pack of cookies and joining Isaac.

"Well, get the clothes you have. Mister Kravitsev is not a patient man and you've got his whole wardrobe."

"Are you alright?" he asks Isaac, choosing to ignore Erica.

"I would've been better if you didn't fucking do what you did." Derek goes to say he's sorry, but Isaac talks over him. "But we wouldn't get as far as you did if I went. You know I'd play the role and he'd just get rid of me. While you're okay with him using your ass, so it's really a win-win."

Derek pulls a face in distaste.

"I'm not okay with him using my ass," he mumbles. Erica barks out a laugh, spraying the floor in front of her with cookie crumbs and Isaac just smirks.

"You do owe me big time, don't think it's ok."

"Of course. I'm really sorry, Isaac."

Isaac waves him off with a hand.

"Just get the job done. And get us the clothes, we're on a tight schedule here."

Derek waits for a second more but his two colleagues aren't going to help him, so he stomps to the bedroom on his own and gets all of the clothes, that were already there, in a couple trips. He replaces the clothes on the rack with the ones that were supposed to be Isaac's, noticing a simple black bag hanging there. When he turns to look at the twins they're both grinning ear to ear.

"That's a gift. All for you."

Derek's frown grows as he picks the bag from the rack and places it in a chair. He unties the knot and looks inside, seeing exactly what he suspected he'd see.

"There's a big black one, it's a special gift from me." Isaac's grin is positively evil. And smug as fuck. "You'll know when you see it."

"Aren't you on a tight schedule?"

At that Erica actually gets up and Isaac follows her. While Derek grouched and complained, he didn't _really_ want them to leave. It wasn't his call though. Erica takes away his burner phone, and hands him a new one, with his fake social accounts set up and his subscriptions made for him. She hugs him and pats him on the chest as they part. Isaac hugs him tight and holds on for a beat longer than strictly necessary. He passes Derek a flashdrive with all the information on Joseph Brown, remembering to tell Derek the password for the wifi, and then they're gone. Derek watches the dry cleaner's car until it turns a corner and is gone from view. He feels better now that he's seen Isaac. And he can actually leave the house today, which is amazing.

Derek still spends a considerate amount of time going through his new wardrobe, getting acquainted with Joseph's tastes. Derek changes his sweats for track pants and puts on a simple v-neck tee that are something he'd wear himself.

Derek reads up on Joseph and studies "his" writing some more, rereading the articles. Derek promises himself to try writing later today. It's his job after all, he needs to make it believable.

He leaves the bag of sex toys till last, dreading having to go through it a bit. It's not that Derek is averse to sex or kinky sex for that matter. But it's a bag that the whole precinct probably had a hand in picking out for him, that Finstock had a say in what goes into the bag, and Derek hates this for so many reasons.

Derek empties the contents of the bag on his bed and instantly spots Isaac's "gift". It's enormous and shiny and there is no way that could fit anywhere. It has a sucker at the end and Derek ponders if he should just use it as a hanger in his closet, but if anyone were to come over they'd totally get the wrong idea, so Derek hides it as far as he can in his bedside drawer. There are a bunch of smaller dildos and vibrators, most of them neon and bright, two butt plugs, a pair of furry handcuffs, a gag, a blindfold, a collar and a leash, leather handcuffs with a chain between them, some black rope, something that's called a spreader bar and what looks like a small leather paddle. Yep. Derek reads what the packaging says and yep. Leather paddle. There's also a pack of batteries and an enormous bottle of lube. The Precinct went all-out. That's what the taxpayers money gets spent on.

Derek pictures the chief touching any of the contents of the bag and making loud inappropriate comments. Or Greenberg anywhere near the bag. He shudders. Well, it's a good thing he's not going to use any of it. Still, if his place gets searched, he can't leave the toys unpacked. So Derek unpacks the boxes, uncoils the rope, tests the vibrators, just in case. He's not sure what would constitute that case, but whatever. He dumps all of the toys into his bottom drawer and throws the mutilated boxes and packages back into the black bag, throwing it inside his closet for now.

Things all sorted out Derek can finally go on a jog. He doesn't care that it's in the middle of the day, he's going to take his precious time and when he gets back and takes a shower, he'll call Mieczyslaw.

~

The Stilinski kid is out of breath when he picks up the phone. Derek hopes he wasn't having sex. Derek hopes he's not _having_ sex, oh god. Why'd he have to think that.

"Hi, it's... uh... I was at the club two days ago..." shit, Derek could try and be more articulate. He's supposed to be a writer, for fuck's sake. But the kid makes a pleased excited noise and asks someone, Scott, if Derek hears right, to take a breather and that they'll continue later. Oh god, he was definitely having sex.

"I'm glad you called. I didn't think you would."

"Well, you can rejoice now. Because I did." Derek says impassively, earning a snort in reply.

"Good, good. I don't think you told me your name back then..." Stilinski trails off.

"Joseph. Joseph Brown."

"Are you trying to make a poor imitation of an emotionally constipated robot or are you just like that?"

Derek scowls, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against.

"What did you want me to call for anyway?" he sounds irritated, and he probably shouldn't act so hostile, but so far it looked like the brat actually enjoyed someone mouthing off to him. He probably didn't get a lot of that, surrounded by ass-lickers ready to say anything to please him, for the chance at getting a piece of his daddy's fortune.

Anyway, Mieczyslaw snorts, so Derek is doing something right.

"I," he makes the letter at least four syllables long, seemingly thinking something over. "Want to meet up." There's some kind of hustle after that, Stilinski whispering angrily at someone, probably that guy, Scott. "Excuse me a moment."

Derek nods, even though Stilinski can't see him. He hears distant whispers, but nothing he can pick out. It seems like the Stilinski brat is arguing over something with his lover in hushed tones. He comes back not long after.

"Sorry for that, man. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Derek holds his breath.

"You live far from the club?"

"Not too far."

"Good. Then I know a great place for us to go to. I'll text you the address. Noon good for you?"

"Good." Echoes Derek.

"I'll be looking forward to our meeting, Joey."

"It's Joseph. See you tomorrow, Stiles." Derek uses the nickname. He should start getting used to calling the brat by it. Or he might just blurt out "brat" some day and what good will that do.

So far it seemed that things were going smoothly, but nothing real actually happened so far. Derek winged a phone conversation. Tomorrow Derek'll see the kid in person and god knows where that'll lead. Derek's still not sure how to act around him, should he let less of himself peak through, or should he act more like himself, would Stlinski respond to that better...

His phone chimes with a text and when Derek searches for the location on the maps it looks like Stiles is taking him to a local bakery. Derek doesn't remember ever hearing anything shady about a bakery, but maybe already the op is paying off and he'll find out more secrets the Cage is keeping than they had known about, all because of his careless son.

 

Derek makes sure to write something in his multiple journals through the day. He goes to sleep with a feeling of anticipation, his body abuzz with excitement. Of course he ends up dreaming.

A burning car, two corpses and getting buried in lilies, the flowers suffocating him and pressing him further into the ground.

It's around 4 AM when Derek wakes up in a sheen of sweat and still feeling like he's choking on the smell of burned bodies and those disgusting white flowers. He doesn't go back to sleep after that. He used to call Laura when he got nightmares, hearing his sister's voice made him feel calmer, made him know that she was alive, that he wasn't all alone. But then the calls made her more worried each time and he gradually stopped, so she'd think he got better. He still feels sick every time he gets a whiff of lilies.

He showers, eats and goes for a run, like he'd do if he woke up at a reasonable hour and not from a nightmare. Derek ends up sketching and writing in his journals for lack of anything better to do. It doesn't take his mind off of the nightmare, but it slowly attunes him for the meeting today. Derek doesn't want to arrive early, but he's never been to that bakery and he doesn't really want to be too late. So he gets ready, picking out a khaki henley and a pair of fitting jeans. His wardrobe was something he was very pleased about, not having to wear anything extravagant and tight, or bright, was a blessing. Derek wondered if he could just keep the clothes if he survived this. He wouldn't need to go shopping for a couple years at the least.

Well, there was one outfit Derek was very uncomfortable about, but he threw it in the back of the closet and decidedly ignored its existence. It was probably another special gift from a vengeful Isaac anyway.

Derek throws on a black leather jacket and he's ready. He hesitates, but in the end he decides that coming to the meeting with a notebook and pen would be too pretentious. And he's still not too confident about the way he writes, even if he's supposed to be a shitty writer, he doesn't want to draw attention to that part of his persona.

Derek uses a taxi and ends up getting to the place early. But it looks like Mieczyslaw came even earlier. He waves excitedly, his whole body involved in the process, smile bright and big, like he's already doped out on coffee. Or something else. In the club his hair was styled, he was wearing an expensive three-piece suit in complimenting colors and leather shoes. Today his hair's a mess and he's dressed in jeans, worn sneakers, plaid and a tee with a print. Now he looks more like the person the police knew him as.

As Derek approaches, he notices that the couple to Stiles' left isn't just a cute couple. These two are with Stiles. And their stares are icy, as they follow Derek's every move. They're young, probably Stilinski's age. One, the closest to Stiles, is a petite Asian girl dressed in bright fitting clothing, but it looks like something designed for comfort, not for fashion. The kid by her side doesn't look too threatening, all fluffy hair and crooked jaw. But he's built like someone who doesn't just work out to have a good body. If you're not looking for it, they'll just be a cute couple, but if you know what to look for, and Derek does, you'll probably realize that they're there for Mieczyslaw's protection.

Stiles hops up from his seat and meets Derek halfway.

"You're early." Derek lifts an eyebrow to that and the kid laughs, lifting his hands up in the air, surrendering. "Come, meet my friends."

Stiles doesn't sit, so Derek doesn't. Instead the two kids get up when they walk up to their table.

"This is Kira, she's my bodyguard." the girl nods and Derek tries not to show his surprise. He didn't think Stilinski would just tell him that outright. Derek thanks whatever deity that's responsible for the younger Stilinski being so dumb.

"And this is Scott. My best friend and Kira's overprotective boyfriend." it must be the same Scott from when Derek thought Stiles was having sex. It's good to know they weren't. But there's no way of actually telling. They could all be in a polyamorous relationship for all Derek knows. As long as they don't ask Derek to join in he doesn't care. Scott nods at Derek, managing to make it look aggressive but sweet.

"And this is my new friend." Stiles' hand lands on Derek's lower back and Derek can't control his face for a second, mouth turning down and brows furrowing. Stilinski chuckles though, so he probably hoped for this reaction. "His name's Joseph Brown and I'm looking forward to knowing him." The kid's hand slips lower and squeezes his ass. Derek jumps, but the fucker already pulled his hand away and is clapping his hands together.

"Let's get some coffee!" and he just rushes in, expecting everyone else to follow. To be fair, they do.

"So, Joseph. That's a pretty name. Any backstory there?" They're standing in line and it looks like it's just a simple bakery so far. He'll have to wait till they get to the counter. Derek hopes the drinks will be clean, he's not looking forward to being drugged.

"Yeah, it was my grandfather's name. He was a dick, but he died a few months before I was born. So..."

"A dick, huh." Stiles gives him a tight-lipped smile, his eyes full of mischief.

"Why 'Stiles'?"

"Because my name is unpronounsable." He shrugs. "Not like a dick name like Joseph."

"My grandfather was a dick, lay off my name."

"Okay, okay. Touchy."

They come up to the counter and Stiles says he'll pay for all of their orders, ordering a concoction made of every dentist's wet dream for himself, but it just sounded teeth-rotting, not as a code for anything illegal. When Derek orders a chamomile tea the brat makes a face and because Derek's the last to order, he butts in and orders a bunch of pastries.

"Tea's good for you." Derek tries to defend.

"Yeah, but also - yuck."

Derek shrugs. So far, if you didn't count the groping Derek would never condone if he wasn't on a mission, all of this seemed like a cute meet-up between friends. Chatting and getting coffee. This didn't look like it was going anywhere, but it's not like Derek could go and just ask Stilisnki to list off all of his father's crimes and give out his location. So he'd wait.

Once their orders were ready, it seemed like something shifted. Just one glance from Stilinski had Kira and Scott slowing down and sitting at a different table than Derek and Stiles.

"Why were you really at the club?" And isn't that the million dollar question. Mieczyslaw dives right in foregoing any small talk.

Derek still isn't sure if he wants to say that he was there to get dominated. Because he's sure he doesn't want Stilinski anywhere near him sexually. He has no idea what the kid would do to him and he doesn't want to find out. Derek prepares to answer when he feels Stiles' foot slowly inching up his leg, stroking his calf. Derek chokes on air and is glad he wasn't holding his tea. He looks up into the younger man's eyes and Stiles's pupils are blown wide, the amber ring around them barely visible, his lips pulled in a satisfied smirk. Stilinski isn't bad-looking. This could probably turn someone on. If Stilinski wasn't a mouthy brat that didn't know his boundaries.

"I knew you weren't a dom the moment I saw you." the brat's smirk only grows bigger as he speaks. Derek wants to get up and run. If it were up to him, he would, and that would be it. But he's not here as himself. He's here to get Stilinski to tell him all the dirt there is to tell on his father. And he's supposed to be able to go very far in order to get the information.

"I never- I mean..." Derek's sure his face looks murderous. It's his default expression when he's nervous. Or embarrassed. Stiles' foot is stroking farther up his leg and it's annoying and distracting. "I did some... stuff. A while ago." And it's not untrue. Coincidentally. Derek did explore a bit. A few years back. But he never got a chance to get into it. Things happened, his parents' death being one of the things. So Derek wasn't really feeling up to exploring kinks at that particular time in his life.

"Mhm." Stiles licks his lips predatorily. "I'm not saying that your lie was okay or that shit you came up with about torture and killing was in any way sane," Stiles' foot is off of him and Derek almost breathes a sigh of relief. "If anything ever were to happen between us, the first thing I'd have to do would be punish you for that..."

Derek feels his cheeks burning and he wants to deck the kid in the jaw. This is not okay. None of it is okay.

"But I don't even know you apart from what Lydia was able to find on you, which isn't a lot. You're pretty clean, Mr Brown. And if you'd like to - I'd like to get to know you and revisit this conversation if everything works out."

Derek does a mental check to search for this Lydia person Stiles mentioned.

"What makes you think I'm interested?" Derek sounds fussy and, probably, flustered.

Stiles throws his head back and laughs the purest laugh Derek's ever heard.

"I like you, Joe, I really do."

~

Derek makes one of the journals into a diary. He writes about his day. About the highlights and the disappointments. About needing to buy new soap... it's a great way to document everything without a chance of forgetting or missing something that might turn out to be important. And he's a writer. He's almost expected to own a diary, right? Anyway, he thinks it's smart. It's not like he can just call up Boyd or Erica and Isaac, and ask them what their thoughts are on the matter. Deep undercover doesn't work like that. He'll be going months without contact. And he already misses his team, his friends, his sisters. But it'll all be worth it in the end.

Derek scribbles down bits of conversation that went down at the bakery. Mostly it was just Stilinski being inappropriate. And the meeting was cut short pretty fast, Kira receiving a call and whispering something in Stilinski's ear, before he excused himself and the three left Derek to a tray of unfinished pastries. Derek writes about his disappointment at that. When he's cross-checking his notes when this is over with, he wonders what was it that was happening that made Stilinski run away so fast.

Derek is in bed, almost asleep, when his phone notifies him about an incoming text.

**Sorry about cutting today short. Come meet me at the arcade tomorrow?** And a geolocation attached. Stilinski doesn't even ask. He just assumes Derek would be free to meet him. He probably thinks his disgusting coming on was supposed to do the trick and leave Joseph love-sick and aching to be fucked. Well, no harm in some wishful thinking, especially if it's all playing into Derek's hand.

**3 PM** Derek texts back and received a kissy emoji in return. Derek rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. Somehow... somehow this is working.

Derek wakes up buried in lilies again.

~

As Derek's preparing to leave, he hopes that the Arcade is secretly a cover for a drug distribution, so many kids there to get hooked. Not that he wants the kids to get on drugs. He just hopes that this time Stiles Stilinski actually shows him something worth his time, and doesn't spend it on making advances on him and stuffing his face with pastries.

Logically, Derek knows that this op could take more than half a year of his life, more than that even, that he probably will have to endure a lot more meetings and a lot more groping, and that he'll have to do a lot of things he'd normally never be okay with. Like taking drugs and sleeping with Mieczyslaw. So he supposes that he should be thankful for the days that he gets to eat pastries and play video games. It's just hard to enjoy himself when all he's thinking about is destroying the kid's father for what he did.

But Derek's supposed to be a professional. He needs to stop acting like a whiny asshole and just go and get his job done. And maybe when he finally puts the Cage in handcuffs, he'll stop having nightmares.

This time Stilinski is deliberately late. He probably thinks it's funny to make Derek wait, surrounded by so much noise and color and kids. Or he's doing it because he thinks Joseph is already infatuated with him and waiting will make him want Stilinski more. That's some bullshit logic but Derek wouldn't put it past the brat. He thinks the whole world belongs to him.

When he finally arrive, both Kira and Scott are by Stiles' side again, flanking him, looking pretty unhappy. In contrast to the Stilinski kid, who's grinning from ear to ear and waving manically.

"Joe! So sorry, we ran into traffic. You didn't wait long?" Stilinski hugs him and pats Derek's bicep as he's leaning away, leaving his hand there.

"Do you want the truth?"

Stilinski clutches at his heart, his face taking on an exaggeratedly hurt expression.

"It wasn't _that_ long." Stilinski must spot something behind Derek, because he grabs Derek by the hand and pulls him inside, the hurt act dropped . "Come, I want to PLAY!"

Stiles gets them all a pile of coins for the games and once again drags Derek off, his bodyguard and her boyfriend hot on their heels.

"Speaking of playing," Stilinski starts as soon as they press the button to set the game for two players. "What kind of games are _you_ into?"

Derek shoots at the screen carelessly, trying not to show off his actual skills but not to suck completely. He shrugs even if Stilinski's not watching him, attention on the split screen.

"I don't know, I like puzzles, I guess."

Stilinski snorts loudly and then proceeds to say, just as loudly:

"No, no, I mean other kinds of games. Like how hard do you like to be spanked? Would you wear a vibrator to work? Do you like your nipples clamped? You look like a guy that likes his nipples clamped."

Derek drops his plastic gun and scrambles to get it up, looking around, not caring one bit for his score. he notices a couple of eyes on them, all teenagers. And Stiles' bodyguards, obviously. The later two are grinning. What the hell is Stilinski playing at?!

"I don't... If you want to talk about that why don't we go somewhere more private?"

"Don't be embarrassed. You should embrace the part of you that wants to kneel and be tied up and beg to be thoroughly fucked."

Once again all of that is said very loudly, people staring openly at the two of them now. Derek knows he needs to get on Mieczyslaw's good side, he knows he needs to do everything in his power to get on the inside. But this is ridiculous.

Screw it. Whatever. Joe Brown wouldn't take it. That's how Derek reasons shoving the toy gun back in its slot, turning around and stomping off.

This wasn't even trying to be sexy, like at the bakery. The piece of shit was deliberately trying to embarrass him. Maybe he was getting off on it, maybe humiliation is his thing, but Derek wasn't just going to take it lying down. Submissive or not. There had to be boundaries.

He's almost out the door when Stilinski catches up to him, stopping him with a hand on Derek's arm.

"Dude! Stop, jeez. You're really fast!"

Derek turns around, glaring. He sees Kira tensing in the background from the corner of his eye.

"I didn't know you'd be that sensitive! You looked like a guy that'd be okay with some dirty-talk. Now I know you're no fun, fine. But I'd say running away was going a little too far, wouldn't you?"

"I don't want to be talking about sex in front of a bunch of kids." Derek grits out.

"Oh. So you're okay with talking about butt plugs and vibrators then? Just not with the teenager part?" And once again he's so much louder than he could've been.

"Oh, I'm okay with using them, but not with spoiled brats." Derek doesn't know how he gets his face to stay impassive, when he wants to bite his tongue in horror. He did it. He went ahead and did it. He just called the brat a brat. To his face. That's it. That's the end of it all. He ruined it all.

Stilisnki doesn't let his face show what he's thinking and Derek's just standing there, waiting. Oh god, will he put a hit on Joseph now?

Mieczyslaw slowly lifts his eyes to meet Derek's. His expression serious.

"Would you want to start over? You didn't leave a good first impression on me, and I - you. I think it'd do us good to try and start over." He bites his lip, as if unsure of what he's doing. But Derek's not going to miss the chance he almost blew already.

"Hi. I'm Joe. And I love discussing my sex life in my own bedroom" Derek reaches a hand out for Stilinski to shake. The kid snorts, but quickly schools his expression.

"Hi, Joe. I'm Stiles. And it's good that you told me about your boundaries, because I have a problem with figuring those out on my own." he shakes Derek's hand and smiles at him, keeping the contact for a few seconds too long for it to be a business kind of handshake. This little gesture is a lot more flirty and intimate than anything Stilinski did so far and Derek feels a little proud of the kid.

"Would you want to get a shake and some curly fries with me?" Stiles asks.

"And burgers?"

"And burgers." Stiles grins. His hand is expectantly open, ready for Derek to take hold. Derek's not sure he should take it, but when Stiles starts retracting it, he grabs on and squeezes once, signalling Stiles to lead them to the burger joint at the back of the arcade.

~

Stiles and Derek sit in a booth by themselves, Kira and Scott close by with their own orders.

"I was kind of planning on discussing sex all day. So... What'chu doing for a living?" Stiles asks once they're seated. Derek cringes. The reason for it partially being his unprofessional writing that couldn't really pass for being a writer.

"Let's discuss sex instead."

Stiles chuckles softly.

"That bad?"

"I write." Derek shares. "But I'm still waiting for that moment. When I become the next big thing and am published nation-wide. I'm working on a book but it's... I'm working on it."

Stiles smiles at him. Not the leering smile he used before, a genuine smile. It feels weird, but nice.

"It's better than having your future decided for you." Once again Stilinski looks like there's genuine emotions behind his words, almost wistful, and it leaves Derek confused. Stilinski smiles at him again and Derek can clearly see that this smile is fake. "At least I get to have my freedom now! Anyway, what're you writing about?"

It's his in and Derek is not going to pass up the moment. He has enough knowledge of LA's underbelly to have an educated conversation, if Stilinski asks him something.

"This and that. But my book's about a noble criminal. It's fiction, but I'm using LA's crime scene for research. He's this guy that saw that the system wasn't working and decided to take justice into his own hands."

"So like batman?" Stiles asks excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, I guess. You think it's a bad idea?"

"No! It could be really cool if you do it right. You should show me what you've got so far."

"I'll think about it." Derek smiles coyly. Only he has _nothing_ to show. And he supposedly worked on the book for about two years already. He'll have to at least draft the damn thing so this can work.

"And we could do some research." Stiles waggles his eyebrows, expression pure excitement. Derek's excited too. research means he gets to find out about the Cage and maybe even what he's currently planning.

"You'll have to promise not to tell anyone, if I show you. I'm very protective of my writing."

"Obviously," Stiles smiles, shoving a handful of curlyfries into his mouth.

~

Once Derek gets home he does a short, and hopefully subtle, sweep for any bugs that could've been planted while he was away. He doesn't find any, but it doesn't mean he's in the clear. There's nothing he can do about it though, so he just settles on the couch, grabbing his laptop so he can get to writing.

The rest of the day at the arcade turned out to be descent and it confused Derek more than anything. Stlinski didn't act the way he did before, not even a glimpse of that cocky disgusting rich kid who knew he could have everything as long as he could throw enough money at people. He acted genuine, for all Derek could tell, kept the conversation flowing and never shouted about vibrators again.

He doesn't call Stiles for the next couple of days and Stiles doesn't call him. It might be a bad sign, but Derek uses this time to write. He's still not alright with showing it to Stiles but he could read him the "excerpts" they could talk about, so Derek doesn't bother with a beginning, not caring for the noble criminal part. He's more interested in the crimes. So he writes about the conflicting emotions of his main hero, how he started this thing for a good cause but he ended up killing more than once soon enough, getting deeper into the crime scene and afraid he was turning into what he started off acting against. Derek hopes it's not too obvious, but he adds a crime Stiles' father actually committed. Nothing big, but something for him to test how truthful and willing to share information with him Stiles really is. Writing requires inspiration and talent, but Derek only has a pressing need to write, so he does.

When he texts Stiles, the kid answers him enthusiastically, within half an hour of receiving the text. He wants to meet up, but he wants it to be more private than the last two times.

**Can I come over to ur place?**

There's no reason not to, Derek's apartment perfectly tailored to look the way it does.

**I'll cook, so bring something sweet.** Derek texts back.

**U mean other than my sweet ass?**

Derek rolls his eyes and considers an answer, when his phone pings with another text from Stiles:

**I'll buy something. When can I come over?**

**After 10 should be fine.**

**Ugh. Morning. You'll have to make it worth my while, man, because mornings suck.**

Derek holds his phone in his hand for a bit more and decides that there's no reply necessary. If Stiles wants to ask something - he can just send another text.

Derek gets back to writing the "book" but gets distracted by the dirty mug that was sitting on his table, pretty fast. Actually, the whole apartment is a mess. Not like a bomb went off and there are clothes and dishes all over the place, but it's not exactly tidy and Derek's suddenly feeling self conscious, even if it's technically not his home. He wants Stiles to like it here, so he'd want to return again and again. That's why Derek closes the laptop and gets to cleaning, getting ready, trying to think of every possibility on how tomorrow might go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dubcon warning is for unwanted sexual advances and some bad-touching.


	3. ...to make it work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles visits. They talk about sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! dubcon warning !!!  
>  even though Derek gradually gets attracted to Stiles and his assessment of Stiles' feelings is that he likes Derek - this isn't an honest relationship, due to obvious reasons, so keep that in mind. This'll apply to further chapters too.  
> ~  
> I changed the formatting for dialogues, I was told it'd be easier to read if I did that.

Derek goes all out, which is stupid, but it's almost ten and the kitchen table doesn't have an empty space on it. Derek made every breakfast food he could think of. He reasoned with himself that he had to impress Stiles. And he spent half a year going to culinary courses, so it was a waste not to use his skills anyway. Whatever.

The buzzer goes off and Derek quickly wipes his hands off on a towel, pressing a button to let Mieczyslaw in. He's waiting by the open door, leaning on the door frame, when Mieczyslaw exits the elevator. The young man looks sleep-rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed, hands occupied with a brown paper bag with a logo on it that Derek recognizes as the one from the bakery the kid took him to. But there's something else Derek notices about him: he doesn't have his bodyguards with him. Derek's so thrown off by it that he kind of forgets to move, ending up blocking the kid's way.

"Are you... going to let me in? Why are you doing the 'eyebrows'?" Derek scowls even harder at that.

"Aren't Kira and Scott coming?" As he's asking this he does move out of the way, letting Stiles in.

"They... she was busy. Is it okay if it's just me?" Derek has no idea what is happening, but he's not looking this gift horse in the mouth. He lets out a laugh he hopes doesn't sound manic.

"Of course it's okay. I was just surprised." Derek plucks the paper bag from Stiles' hands and leads him towards the kitchen, where he points at the table. "I had four people in mind when I was cooking."

Stiles's eyes bulge and Derek smirks.

"You made _all_ of this? No way! Did you not sleep at all? How- Oh my god, you're lying? I just missed the delivery guy? Dude, I burn _toast_ , what the hell?"

"I guess it comes with not wanting to write and having too much free time on your hands."

Stiles stares at him, an incredulous grin on his face, before plucking a piece of bacon from a plate and shoving it into his mouth, making a show of moaning loudly around it.

"Just so you know, if you feed me, you're never getting rid of me." he says this as he's stuffing his face, bypassing using a fork and plate.

Derek ushers Stiles to make them both coffee, pointing him towards the coffee machine, distracting him from devouring all of the food before they even sit down.

Stiles eats noisily and messy. And he talks while he does so. It's both horrifying and really entertaining. Derek thought eating out at the arcade and the bakery earlier would get him prepared for this but somehow Stiles eats even messier when it's just the two of them.

His phone rings a couple of times, but Stiles dismisses the call every time.

"If it were an emergency I'd get a notification, not a call."

"An emergency?"

"Like a new hot club opening or something. A sick party. We could go together if you wanted, I just didn't think it was your kind of scene." And that's it for this conversation, Stiles obviously not going to tell him about the calls. Or the emergencies.

Once they're done eating they relocate to the couch, Stiles groaning and stroking his stomach lovingly.

"I am dead. You just put me in a food coma. I am not getting up off this couch unless you drag me off yourself."

"What about the scones?" Derek suppresses a smirk, but judging by Stiles' dirty look directed at him, he doesn't really succeed.

"If you bring me the scones and I don't have to get up I'll pay you a thousand bucks." Derek lifts an eyebrow.

"Yeah, not interested."

"Come oooon, pretty please? What do you want? Do you want a hand job? I could give you a hand job."

Derek feels himself color and Stiles's pleading expression turns into a leer.

"Speaking of hand jobs..." he turns to face Derek, propping his head on his hand, arm bent at the elbow, resting on the couch's back. Derek knows he shouldn't but he feels awkward and hot allover under the Stilinski kid's stare.

"Fine, I'll go get you your scones." he gets up and is followed by Mieczyslaw's triumphant laughter. He shoves the bag of scones at the grinning kid and Stiles instantly bites into one.

"But really, speaking of hand jobs." There's cream on Stiles' lips and crumbs on his shirt. And Derek thought he got out of that talk. "You said you had some experience with the d/s scene. What _did_ you do? I don't want to assume." Derek bets he'd love to assume. "Do you even do sex? Or is it just about control?"

Derek looks at him, confused. Is he testing him?

"Is there even... Isn't it all just about sex?"

Stiles laughs, but then his gaze turns serious and his brows furrow as he searches Derek's face for something.

"Oh boy." Stiles pulls a face, grimacing and Derek feels embarrassed. He shouldn't be, this is all a front and he is winging his new personality and he shouldn't feel embarrassed because of the two words Stiles said.

"Sorry. It's not your fault." Stiles says instantly, as if feeling Derek's mood. "Your partner should have explained it to you back when you first started to experiment. Or, you know, there are forums. Though you kind of have to figure out which ones to trust..." Stiles rubs at the back of his neck. "Could you, if it's okay with you, tell me about some of the things you did?"

Derek frowns and studies his hands. This is awkward. Now he's finding out there was something wrong with the sex he was having? From a criminal? What's next?

"I don't know. Like, some spanking. Handcuffs." he looks up at Stiles, who's eyes are trained on him.

"That's it?"

Derek crosses his arms across his chest defensively.

"Yeah."

"Safewords? Did you discuss the scene before getting into it?"

"I just had one night stands back then, it's not like it mattered..."

Stiles reaches out and touches him on the elbow, the touch light but firm.

"Don't say that. I'm glad you didn't get hurt during your experimenting, but that's not really what a d/s relationship is about. Even if you don't plan on doing it more than once, you both have to know each other's limits. What if you had a bad reaction to being spanked, but you were handcuffed and could do nothing about it? What if something triggered you, but your partner wouldn't stop, because you were roleplaying and they thought you begging to stop was part of it? You need to have a safeword and if someone is not okay with using one, or accepting your limits, you should not be okay with doing anything with that person."

Mieczyslaw is looking straight at him, serious and even concerned, making Derek blush harder.

Derek feels defensive, his hackles rising. He didn't enjoy Stilinski yelling about sex at the arcade, or him touching Derek without consent; but this is weirder somehow. Why'd he do the things he did in the first place if he was so concerned with consent and proper BDSM etiquette.

"Yeah, that sounds right."

"It is." Stilinski nods, removing his hand. "And as you're new to this, you have to know that it doesn't have to be about sex. My friend from highs chool, Jack-" Stiles stutters for a second. "Jack. Is a submissive, and when we scened together, I never fucked him. He just needed to be restrained when he felt the pressure getting to him, needed to be punished when he'd let the anger get the best of him. I tried subbing, I think you need to experience the other side if you want to be a good dom. But it wasn't for me. For me it was too much like losing control. While helping someone get at peace makes me feel good." Stilisnki's serious expression turns mischievous. "And if there's some dick action all the better."

"I bet." Stiles smiles at his response, making Derek feel a little more at ease.

"Some people like to bring the whole thing into their day to day lives, not getting out of the scene for days. I'm not really into that. I like my partner to be able to talk back to me if they feel like it and to put me in my place if I'm being an ass. I couldn't be with someone who'd listen to everything I say without challenging me."

Stiles is looking expectantly at him and Derek's just lost in Stiles' eyes for a second, warm and soft. Derek realizes that he expects Derek to share something, now that Stiles told him about himself.

"I think I'd like that too. I'm not sure I'd be able to just follow someone around and do everything they tell me. I certainly wouldn't be able to not argue with you." and that sounded dangerously like flirting. Not that it was bad, Derek had to remind himself, getting to Stilinski through any means necessary was Derek's goal. He just didn't expect that talking to him would be so easy.

"And it doesn't all have to be leather and breeding benches and sex swings." Derek nods, all the while trying to picture a breeding bench. "Sometimes it's so much better with something simple. When your words can do more than any restraints and toys could."

Stiles almost sounds wistful and Derek smiles at him. It's nice listening to him. And it's actually nice to hear someone talk about these things so openly and with no judgement.

"I... can I ask you to do something?" Stiles hesitates. Does he want to have sex already? Just like that? Alright, that was unexpected. Is he asking to see if Derek will argue with him? Shit. Derek should stop panicking before he even knows what's happening.

"Yeah."

Stiles smiles reassuringly at him.

"Could you write me a list? Of the things you like, or think you might like? And things you definitely don't want."

"Yeah."

"It doesn't have to be big or have anything special in it. Or it can have the weirdest stuff, you just need to be sure you'd like it, or would like to experiment with it. Then I could send you some links and see if we should be broadening your horizons and if you really like what you think you like." Stilinski places a hand near Derek's thigh, the side of his hand touching him. The contact isn't sexual, but it makes Derek's face heat up. "I can send you a list of my do's and don't's and maybe's, but I want you to try and write one on your own first. And I don't want you copying mine word for word just in case you'd want to make me happy. If you wanted to. For any reason."

Stiles' hand flexes against Derek's thigh and he wants Stiles to get it away from him right now. Or put it on him and drag it up his thigh, and do _something_ , not just lay there.

And then Stiles' phone rings. Again. His smile turns tight-lipped and strained. He excuses himself and picks up the phone with an angry "What?" Someone is talking on the other end, making Stiles look annoyed, his brows drawn together, lips turned into something resembling a snarl.

"You wouldn't." Obviously, Stiles doesn't trust that the someone on the end of the line won't do whatever they're planning on doing, because he rises to his feet, and starts pacing. "I know what I'm-" he's interrupted again and whatever is said to him makes him look sad and miserable. Derek wants to take his phone away from him and yell at whoever did that. Things were going so well. Derek was getting somewhere. But he's pretty sure Stiles is not going to stay after this call. What if it's his father? What if he suspects Derek and he doesn't want Stiles near him?

"Fine. I'll be out in five." Stiles ends the call and Derek gets up to stand beside him.

"A hot club is having an amazing party?"

Stiles forces out a humorless laugh:

"Something like that." He's silent for longer than Derek's ever seen him be and then he's dragging his hands across his face and through his hair, making a frustrated noise. "This was stupid. I shouldn't have come."

He takes off, grabbing his hoodie from the chair and patting his pockets to check if he forgot something, and Derek doesn't have the slightest idea how to stop him. He's at the door and Derek has a feeling Stiles is not planning on coming back. Whoever called Mieczyslaw left him shaken.

"Let me at least pack some of the food for you? I won't be able to finish that on my own. And you could share with Kira and Scott?"

Stiles hesitates, but then sighs and agrees.

Derek packs a bag with plastic containers for him, not being deliberately slow, even if he wants to be. He should be able to figure out what happened and to be able to make Stilinski want to return, but his mind is a blank. And it was going so well...

Derek brings the bag to the door and places it on the floor, not sure if Stiles would be okay with skin contact, no matter how brief.

"I'm sorry. For whatever I said."

"It's not- It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"If you say so. But I really am sorry."

The next thing out of Stiles' mouth startles Derek speechless.

"I want to kiss you." he says. As simple as that. "And if you don't want it, you should stop me now."

Derek's heart is in his throat and all he can do is dart his eyes down to Stiles' plush lips. That's enough for Stiles to step forward and push Derek against the wall, lips covering his. It's soft and gentle at first, but as soon as Derek responds, Stiles presses up against him and licks inside Derek's mouth, forcing a moan out of him. Derek's hands move to Stiles' hips off their own accord, but as soon as they touch him, Stiles grabs him by the wrists and pins his hands to the wall at his sides. Not hard enough for Derek to not be able to get free, but hard enough for him not to want to. Derek grinds up and his dick is half-hard, fuck, what is he doing-

And then it seems like the same exact thought crossed Stiles' mind, because he's off Derek in a blink of an eye, and Derek's traitorous body follows him on reflex, for an inch or two.

"I- I have to go. Bye. See you- Bye!" Stiles leaves, rushing out of the flat and down the stairwell, not waiting for the elevator, forgetting the food.

Derek's wrists tingle with a fanthom feeling of long fingers pressed around them.

Derek justifies his body reacting so eagerly with not having had sex with anyone for over three years. He's had a sex buddy in the academy, but she broke it off as soon as they graduated, maybe exactly because she knew that Derek wanted more. She said she wasn't ready for a relationship, but a year after that Derek saw her posting photos from her wedding. He kind of didn't have the time or the energy for a relationship, and he lost his appetite for hookups and one night stands in college. So it was only natural that his body reacted to someone else touching him. And the kiss was pretty darn good.

Only he is afraid that it was their last kiss. Not as in he wants to kiss Stilinski again, that's not it, no. No. But his op depends on whether Stiles will want another kiss and Derek needs him to want it.

Derek spends some time pacing the flat, putting the food away in the fridge, washing the dishes, worrying. He ends up writing some of today up. Maybe if he writes it down he'll figure something out. But it's obvious that the reason Stiles left was the phone call. The stupid phone call.

Derek lies in bed in the dark. It's not like anyone can see him, it's not like he should care... He remembers Stiles talking about taking control, giving up control, about all the different ways it could work, and he believes him now, about even the lightest touch being able to bring you to your knees. Derek squeezes his own hand over his wrist, eyes closed, and breathes in, relishing the feeling. He changes the hands, squeezing his other wrist, and feels himself getting hard.

This was stupid. Derek scolds his traitorous dick and lays his hands over the covers, each on a different side from him. Stupid. He needs to think about how to bring Mieczyslaw back and make him want to tell Derek his secrets. He needs Mieczyslaw to get to "the Sheriff" so he can get him behind bars. These are the only thoughts about him he should be having.

Thinking about the job makes Derek's erection wilt. Good.

~

Derek knows Stilinski isn't coming back and he's pretty sure he won't be answering Derek's calls, so Derek does something he'd otherwise spend days, maybe weeks, getting done. Namely, making a list. The list. He uses google and reads wikipedia articles. About kinky sex. Because this is his undercover operation. Derek's banged his head on his desk one too many time during the past few hours.

In the end Derek manages to make a list he's quite proud of, without scarring himself mentally too much. He sends a link to the Google doc to Stiles and waits.

It takes Mieczyslaw a couple of hours to reply, but he replies. Derek lets out a sigh of relief.

**give me access to edit**

Derek replies without hesitation. He can't let Mieczyslaw get away. Derek still can't relax, there's no guarantee that their interactions won't end with Stilinski editing his list and blacklisting him after. So he needs to think very carefully what he does and says. But some pressure is off, so Derek lets himself worry about something other than the op for a moment. The list he made was pretty honest and it's not like he can play it safe, because trying to enter into a contracted d/s relationship with the son of a crimelord isn't a safe thing. But he was in a rush to get Stiles to talk to him when he was making the list, and now he wishes he could make it smaller, and tamer.

The next thing Stiles texts him is: **done.** And as Derek reads through everything Stiles wrote in and clicks on a couple of the links he left there, Derek admits that the list he had _was_ pretty tame.

If it were up to Derek, he'd leave the list be and pretend it didn't exist for another week or two, or a month. But his phone chimes with a: **take your time and write me back?** So he knows he can't leave it. Nor can he take his time.

 **I will.** Derek texts back. He'll just... he'll just take this one day to ignore it. Mieczyslaw wants him to text back, he can allow himself _one_ day.

~

It's not that Derek spent the past three years or so _not_ thinking about sex and vowing off of it. But he just might have, because the links Stiles left for him and the little notes describing some of the ...stuff, made Derek feel way too horny for his age. His dick was painfully hard by the time he was on the fifth page of the first site Stiles linked, and it wasn't even all porn. In fact, most of it was just really artful photographs. Derek just wrote "being tied-up" and Stiles wrote a whole paragraph under it and sent him a link to a bunch of different sites that showcased pictures of so many different ways to tie up a person. It was called shibari and kinbaku, Derek was still not too clear on the distinction between the two, and judging by how hard and breathless he was just from looking at the pictures, Derek figured that that was something he was into. The fact that he kept imagining Stiles's voice, reading the descriptions he left him, whispering into Derek's ear while he tightened the knots over his body; didn't help.

When Derek wrote a simple "roleplay" in "Maybe", he had no idea what he was getting into. Stiles describes so many options. Derek knew there could be stuff like rape play, the master/slave thing he associated with bdsm, Daddy kinks... But Stiles explains how the things Derek thought he knew about worked, explained that there was more and that there were levels to all of it. Wrote about more stuff Derek didn't know about. Like pet play, which Derek, flushing wildly, underlined on the list; and stuff like _"You could be a cop. And I figured out your plan. So I'm going to take it out on your body. With my dick ;) Honestly, you just have to let your imagination run wild and be willing to act it all out. I used to crack up a lot during roleplay until I found the one I liked most."_

Derek's blood runs cold at the cop comment. Even if there's nothing behind it. Even if Mieczyslaw made such an obvious joke out of it. But it irritates him to no end. It's like part of him is worried about Mieczyslaw actually meaning it, but part of him does not want any reminder that he's doing all of this because it's his job. So he leaves roleplay alone and switches his attention to the next item on the list.

Derek makes it through everything Stiles left for him in a day and shoots him a text as soon as he's done.

**Thanks. I looked everything up. Need to revise the list now.**

Stiles' reply waits for him when he wakes up in the morning.

**Everything-everything?**

**Obviously.**

They text through the day and it's simple and lighthearted and Derek feels at ease.

**So, anything you liked in particular then?**

**I guess I'm into shibari.**

**Good, hoped you would be**

**Hoped?**

**Whatever. What else?**

**I'd like to try sensory deprivation.** No time to be shy. Derek thought he was being fucking bold writing 'breathplay'.

**Mm. That could be really fun. But we should ease you into it.**

**We should also try petplay, but I'm not sure I'd be entirely into it.** Derek writes back instead of asking what did the "we" mean.

 **That's why it's a maybe. We'll see how it goes. I, personally, think, you'd look really cute with a tail.** Derek really hoped for hot, he's not sure Stilinski isn't making fun of him.

**Not cute.**

**You so are. What did you think about edging?**

**Yes.**

**Sweet. Then you should stop jerking off.** Derek looks down at the text. That is instantly followed by another:

**Shit. Sorry. I got carried away. You can jerk off whenever you want to.**

**Can I call?**

It seems like Stiles' reply is taking hours, when it's just minutes, Derek's hands itching to just call him and maybe get spanked for not waiting for his permission. What the hell is wrong with him? Well... he knows what is. Apparently he needed to get laid.

**Not right now. But this evening. After 9.**

**I'll be waiting.**

~

Derek doesn't know what he'll say, nor what he's supposed to say, but he needs to hear Stiles' voice. He wants to understand what happened that last time he was over at Derek's place and he needs to be sure Stiles will want to see him again.

Because of the op. Obviously, because of the op.

Derek's settling in bed with an e-book when he gets a text.

 **You can call me now if you still want to.** Maybe Mieczyslaw is thinking that he's giving him a much needed out, but that is definitely not what Derek needs. He presses "dial" and doesn't have to wait long for the young man to pick up.

"Hey. So, you called."

"Of course I did." Derek settles more comfortably against the headboard. Mieczyslaw's voice sounded tired and a bit sleepy. Derek wondered what could've made it sound like that.

"I need to apologize first. For asking you to not jerk off. I got carried away and I shouldn't have said that."

"I didn't mind."

"Well, you should've. I wasn't, am not, in any position to order you. And the fact that you don't even think that it was wrong makes it so much worse. I could recommend you a good dom that would take good care of you, that would treat you right."

"I don't want another dom. I want you." Derek doesn't let himself think, he just talks, without analyzing, without planning. "That's why you're perfect. You know I'm new to this, I'm bad at this. And you were saying sorry for something I found hot and would've gone along with. I'd feel safe if you became... intimate with me. I'd know you wouldn't do anything I didn't want."

"Do you know what you want?" Derek wants to answer yes, instantly, but Stiles is talking again, so Derek listens. "We'd have to trust each other. Fully. If... _if_ we both agree to this, and when we get to doing more, will you really be okay with _me_ tying you up? Blindfolding you? Stripping you of your other senses? Would you be comfortable? Or will you expect it to go bad from the start? Because it's not going to work if we don't trust each other."

Derek takes his time to think about it. Only in part for his own benefit. Because he's pretty sure Stiles is genuine, and if he tells him to stop, he'll stop.

"Do you trust me?" that's the real question here. Stilinski has no reason to trust him. He shouldn't, actually. Because Stiles' whiskey-colored eyes and parted lips aren't the only reason Derek's on the phone.

"I'd like to." Stiles says after a pause.

"I'd like to trust you too." is Derek's answer. He guesses that's as good as it'll get. He just waits for Stiles' decision now.

"Then I want a contract. Not like, a notarized all-business thing. Just both our lists, I guess? And I know it can be a deal-breaker, but when I'm with someone, I don't have sex with anyone else, I don't date, I don't scene. Even without the sex."

"I'd prefer that. Yeah." Derek answers.

"So we're really doing it"

"I guess so."

"You can say no. I kind of feel like I'm forcing myself on you."

Derek can't help but smile sadly. Stilinski got that the other way around.

"You're not. I'll tell you if it ever feels like that, though."

"Good. Good." Stiles is quiet, probably thinking this over. "I told you before, but I'd like it if you still called me Stiles outside the bedroom. No sir, or master."

"Yeah, I'm good. Can I keep calling you Stiles _in_ the bedroom?"

This makes Stiles laugh and Derek smiles to himself, proud that he could make it happen.

"Yeah, yeah you can. Though, speaking of _the Bedroom_. I have absolutely no idea when I'll be free enough to invite you over, but I will figure it out."

Stiles is silent for another moment or two.

"Are you okay with the stoplight system I wrote about for our safewords?" Derek remembers. He thought it was easy enough and he wouldn't worry about forgetting his own safeword.

"Yeah. Green."

Stiles chuckles and Derek smiles at his phone.

"Do you use toys?" And they're talking about toys. Not that it's an unexpected question, considering what they're discussing, but it still makes Derek blush and glance at the bedside table where the drawers are hiding the "gift" from the precinct.

"Yeah." it's no lie, but he feels weird, admitting it.

"Good to know. So what do you like? Tell me about your toys."

Derek must hesitate long enough before answering, because Stiles is speaking again:

"Are you not comfortable talking about it? Are you okay with dirty-talk? Because I'm asking right now for the sake of our, hopefully glorious and fruitful, sex life. But I need to know if you're not okay with me talking dirty to you, because I talk a lot. And I do enjoy teasing..."

"No, I, I just- I'm not too comfortable with it. But I think it's hot. I'd like it if you talked." Derek cringes at himself. Could he make himself sound more nervous and inexperienced?

"What about if I talked you through doing some stuff, while I'm not there to help you with it?"

Derek's dick stirs and he gulps.

"I'd be okay with that." Maybe he should've said "Green"? He should've. Are they scening already?

"I'm happy. Are you free right now?"

So they doing it. They're really doing it right now.

"Yeah. I'm in bed, actually."

"Mmm." Stiles hums. "Do you have any toys close by? You could tell me what they are? It'd help me, in the future."

"Yeah, uh, just give me a second." Derek's dick is at half-mast and he curses at himself, fumbling with all the things in his "sex-drawer". Stilinski isn't even here. He doesn't have to act it all out and actually do anything. He can just pretend. Derek leans over the mess of sex toys he just spilled all over the bed.

"I'm... ready."

Stiles chuckles and Derek's dick eagerly responds to the sound of his voice.

"You hide them real good?"

"No, there's just a lot." Derek says before thinking. Stiles makes a pleased surprised sound at that. So Derek's first reaction is to say something to make himself not sound like a sex addict, before he thinks that maybe Stiles would've liked it if he were. "Most of them were a gag-gift from friends. Because they think I need to get laid.

Derek can hear Stiles mumble " _I_ think you need to get laid." and feels a smile tugging at his lips. But then he's looking down at the dildos and vibrators and for a moment there he can't help but feel like Stilinski is making fun of him.

"There's like, a bunch of vibrators and plugs." Derek's voice is harsh even to his own ears.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry I pushed you. You can just show me next time, you don't have to say it. Though it can become a problem, you not being able to ask for what you want."

"I can- I'm sorry." Crap. Why'd he have to go and ruin it.

"No. I am. Don't apologize."

"It just feels weird, over the phone."

Stiles hums. Is quiet for a beat.

"Okay. You seem fine with writing, so I want you to write us a scene. I don't want it to be top-notch extra-spicy next-level shit, I don't even want it to be literature, if you don't want to write it that way. I want you to write what you expect of our first scene together. I want to ask you _not_ to write in any ropes, or handcuffs, no restraints, basically. I want you to be free to move around, but only if I tell you to. And I want you to bring your toys. Write them into the story, figure out which ones you want to start with, which one you'd use for the big finale. Make sure to write it all being mindful to your limits. Because I _am_ going to use everything you write about on you.

"And," Stiles adds, Derek's hand pressing down on his clothed erection, "You can't come until _I_ make you."

Derek hesitates at that, but forces himself to pull his hand away.

"But- can I-"

"You can masturbate if you'd like, but don't come. I'll be very disappointed, if you do."

Derek lets out a displeased noise that's too close to a whine for him to feel comfortable about it.

"Don't pout. It'll be worth it." Stiles sounds like he's smiling. But then his voice turns serious again and Derek's not sure which sounds hotter. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." he doesn't care that he sounds desperate, not right now.

"You sure?"

"I am. Really. Green all the way."

"Good. Thank you for being honest with me. I'm going to sleep, then. Don't take too long with the writing. The sooner you're done - the sooner we can act it out."

Derek nods, dumbly. That sounds really good. Really fucking good.

"Sweet dreams."

Derek echoes Stiles' sentiment and falls back into bed, the plugs right beside him jumping from the impact. Whatever this op is, it's not what he could ever imagine it would be. Derek can't decide if it's good, or bad.

He clears his bed and settles down, switching off the lights. His dick is still half-hard and he debates maybe jerking it for a bit, but decides against it and tries to sleep, Stiles' voice in his head making it practically impossible.


	4. ...to go back home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek attempts writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a character having a panic attack.  
> ~  
> I'm busy with work but I just really wanted to post something. I'm afraid it's time to add slow build to the tags, because this is taking a while.

Working undercover meant Derek couldn't talk to the people he'd usually talk to in a tough situation. Like his sister or his friends from work. And it's not like Derek didn't know it, he knew all of this, highjacking this operation. But as he's spending another day in his empty apartment, Derek wishes he could at least talk to _someone_.

Derek didn't even realize how dependent he was on his friends. And to think that at one point he couldn't even picture himself having friends that weren't family. Derek and Boyd ended up roommates at the academy and they hit it off pretty great. As for Erica and Isaac - they first met them at the precinct and if it wasn't for Boyd falling for Erica the moment he saw her, Derek doesn't think he would've spent the time to look past the cocky attitude of the two detectives, and would've never made friends with them. Now though, unable to communicate with either of them, Derek realizes just how much space they came to occupy in his life. He thinks Laura would be pretty pleased with him, if she knew he finally came to admitting he had friends he cared about and could count on.

If Derek survives, the first thing he'll do is call Cora. Everyone in the family took Talia and Nathan's deaths really hard, and in different ways. Derek was mad at Cora for leaving so easily, for not wanting to stay and get to the bottom of it, for moving on with her life. And now Derek was regretting the years he spent without contact. He can practically hear Laura's voice in his head saying "Better late than never, little bro".

Derek's pretty sure he'll go crazy if he's left with Laura's voice in his head and his own writing, to pass the time. So he does what he's supposed to do and calls Stiles. Maybe he'll even manage to wrap this up without having to have sex with him, if he gets to see him more often and listens in on enough important conversations.

Stiles doesn't pick up though and Derek's sent straight to voicemail.

**I'm bored out of my mind. Tell me we can go out sometime soon.** Derek reads over the message and erases it.

**I need incentive to write. Come meet me.** He erases this one too.

**I know you won't let me look like a douche all alone at a coffee shop with a laptop.** this one Derek sends. And really hopes Mieczyslaw will come. Because Derek is actually going to become a writer cliche and go write at a coffee shop. Because staying at home _will_ kill him.

Once Derek settles comfortably at a table, he sends Mieczyslaw a location and gets to writing. The crime novel, not the sex scene. He's not writing that for a while, and not at all if he's lucky enough.

~

Stiles doesn't come. After a few hours Derek stops expecting him, but it's still disappointing. Derek kind of expected the young man to care at least a little bit. Only Stiles does not only ignore Derek's text, he doesn't call or text him the whole day. He might be busy with something, but Derek's pretty sure the only thing Stiles was busy with was partying and he's going to be really mad if Stiles blew him off for a party.

There was a possibility that Stiles's father had him occupied but Derek's pretty sure it wasn't the case. And if it were - Derek's not even sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Looking at Stiles' behavioral problems and getting to know him, Stiles didn't seem too interested in joining the world of organized crime. But then again, Derek had no idea how much influence on his life his father had. Would he just follow orders if the Sheriff told him to?

Stiles calls right when Derek's getting ready for his shower. Derek lets it ring before finally picking up.

"Well, what was so important that you couldn't come?" Derek cringes at himself, but Stiles needs to know that Joseph will not be okay with being ignored. Because if Joseph gets ignored, Derek doesn't get his intel.

"Uh... people have lives, you know." It's not like Derek expected Stilinski to be smitten with him, not after so little time, but still, this response is colder than expected.

"Yes, and phones have text messaging for a reason." Oh god, that was just petty. Derek is not proud of himself for this one.

"Man, you can't be calling me during the day, alright? I am not allowed to use my phone. Dad gets like super mad at me and stuff."

"What? What the hell, you're twenty five, that's messed up." Derek holds his breath, ready for every word Stiles would be willing to share about his father.

"Nah, it's- it's fine. Dad made me get a job, because I'm not responsible with my money. But it's my allowance, so it's my money, right? That's so dumb." And they're back to the spoiled brat persona. Derek's almost a hundred percent sure Stiles is lying about the job, or the reason for it, but he gets it. He doesn't trust him yet. It's not like Stiles is supposed to after so little time. Still, Derek finally has some leads.

"Poor you." He chides and Stilinski scoffs at him. "What's the job anyway?"

Derek isn't expecting a truthful answer but it'd be weird if he didn't ask.

"Managing or some crap. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to do, Dad just looked at my stupid checkbook and told me I'm getting a job and that's it. But, like, I've got dumb bodyguards reporting my every move to him. Ugh." He huffs.

Derek's upper lip lifts in a snarl just thinking about Stiles' father, he'll have to do something about that reaction and fast. He's a professional for fuck's sake. He wonders what the Cage is really making Stiles do, is he teaching him how to take over the business?

"Let's trade. I'll take your job and you take mine."

Stiles laughs a pure joyous laugh that almost makes Derek smile too.

"No way, dude. Writing is so not my thing. I couldn't keep track of the storyline. You should've seen my school papers. You _chose_ to become a writer, so stop complaining and write me some erotica. Speaking of..."

Mieczyslaw trails off, obviously waiting for Derek to elaborate.

"Didn't feel like writing when I was being blown off. Even if I know now that it wasn't your fault."

"Aw. I was really looking forward to it."

"Anyway, it's hard. I never wrote erotica, and it's weird to write about what I want you to do to me. I don't even know if you would want that."

"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have a problem with what you wrote, but I get what you're saying. I'm not sure how to help you with it though. You have a link to my list."

That's the opening Derek was expecting.

"We could go on a couple more dates. Get comfortable around each other."

Stiles is silent for a while after that.

"I'm not asking you to wine and dine me, I'd just like to spend some more time together." Derek's not above begging if he has to, only he doesn't think it'll work.

"I'm just- I don't have a lot of time on my hands, Joe. I'd love to make time for you, but with this new job I don't really have any."

"I get it. I _am_ disappointed, but I understand." Derek's even more certain now that Mieczyslaw's father is attempting to get him into the family business.

Mieczyslaw sighs and Derek is left to wait out his silence again.

"I would love to meet you. I really would. But I can't promise anything."

"That's okay. Talking works alright for us. We could at least talk. At the end of the day, you know."

"That sounds nice." Derek doesn't think that he's imagining a smile in Stiles' voice. "We could always try phone sex."

Derek chokes on air. Not that it wasn't something unexpected. But still, Derek is somehow surprised.

"After a few phone dates, of course." He's chuckling and Derek feels his cheeks heat up.

"Of course." He grumbles back. "Or... we could just do it. Considering we're already on the phone and I'm half-naked."

Yeah, Derek would rather not have sex for the sake of the operation, but it's phone sex. He doesn't even have to do anything, he could just pretend. Moan here and there, breathe heavy. And maybe it'll help him bond with Stiles.

"Woah there, cowboy. I did not expect you to rush this."

"We met at a BDSM club and on our first date you grabbed my ass and said you'd punish me." Derek doesn't know what makes him push it. He reasons with himself that he's doing it for the operation.

"Don't talk about that. That was horrible. I was trying to mess with you. Why would you- I wasn't being serious back then." Stiles practically whines.

"I know now. If you don't want to we can just talk."

"I'm not at home right now. But we're definitely revisiting your desire to get to doing the do, and seeing me and your huge crush on me. But I've got to go right now. I was really not expecting this. I'll call you tomorrow after work! Kisses! Bye!"

And just like that he hangs up. Derek thinks he heard voices in the background, they must've been the reason for Stiles to end the call so abruptly.

This op could become easier if Derek was sure Stiles wasn't on his father's side and that Derek could convince him to do the right thing. Sell the Cage out. Be free of him. He thinks Stiles is on his way there. Or he's just a really good liar. Only that wasn't something Derek could figure out from a couple of meetings and a few phone calls. He'd need more time.

For now he'll just have to wait.

~

Derek doesn't know how he ends up there again, but he finds himself at the coffee shop almost every day now. Laptop open, coffee in hand, typing the "crime novel". He can't stay at the apartment and he can't see Mieczyslaw, so he spends time polishing the novel and making it look more like a book than a police report. He even has a favorite barista. The girl refills his cup before Derek notices it's empty and doesn't frown on his choices of beverages. Seriously, people get incredibly judgy if you order tea in a coffee shop. Derek makes sure to leave the girl a sizable tip at the end of the day.

Left with his own thoughts Derek has a lot of time to think. And to remember. He never wanted to follow in his parents' footsteps. And anyway, Laura was the golden child, the overachiever, of the three of them. Their parents had to have a serious talk with her when she declared she was becoming a police officer. They convinced her to give other options a thought before deciding. Good thing they did, because that's how she realized she wanted to go to med school.

Derek was their Mom's favorite. He'd always deny it in front of his sisters, but he knew she spoiled him and that he just had to do _the look_ and she'd cave and forgive him for whatever he did wrong. Cora was the youngest and still she wasn't as spoiled as Derek was. If anything, Cora was the most disciplined and mild-tempered of them all. Mom would always say Grandma Hale would've loved her if she lived long enough to meet her. Derek waited for her teenage years so their parents would see that she could cause just as much trouble as Laura and he. But when they died Cora remained just as stoic and collected.

Derek's hands itch to type her name into youtube and see her perform, but he can't, just in case he's being bugged and the Sheriff's people will be able to get to his browser history. It'll be pretty easy to connect Cora Hale to the Hale couple's tragic death and from there - to Derek.

Derek rubs at his eyes, unable to do anything he wants, like talk to his family or try and get closer to Stiles. He feels useless. He stares at the screen, the words a jumbled mess of letters in front of him. Well, he's not paid to feel sorry for himself, so Derek opens another document, called "Write iiiiit." If he can't write the 'novel', he's going to write the other thing meant to get Stiles to trust him.

An hour, a cup of coffee and a slice of an orange meringue pie later, and Derek's nowhere close to getting the thing done. Stiles won't be contacting him till late in the evening, sometimes he doesn't even call, just sends a text and they text for a bit before Stiles excuses himself. Derek's debating getting another slice of pie, when there's a bunch of white lilies shoved in his face.

They're pulled away and he can hear Stiles' voice, chirping happily, but Derek can't hear him, his ears are clogged and he can't get rid of the smell of the lilies, they're up his nose, in his head, behind his eyelids, bleeding through his skin.

He thinks Stiles' voice becomes worried, but he can't hear the words.

"Allergic-" is what Derek manages to grit out before he's pushing up and away from the table on unsteady legs, rushing to the bathroom. Derek manages to make it as far as the sinks before he's puking. The pie doesn't taste as good going up.

"Joe? I got rid of the flowers..." Derek hears the door opening and for a moment he doesn't recognize the name. Before he remembers what's happening, who he's supposed to be, what this is. Derek's hands are still shaky and he's got puke on his lips. And he knows Stiles threw the flowers away but he still imagines their scent in the air.

Derek is rinsing out his mouth when Mieczyslaw touches his back and he can't help but jerk away from the touch. Thankfully, the man doesn't try to touch him again.

"Do you need to go to a hospital? Do you have an EpiPen or something?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just need some air."

"I didn't know... I'm sorry."

The younger Stilinski tells Derek to take his time and that he'll pack his things, leaving Derek alone in the bathroom. He doesn't know how much time passes, before Derek can let go of the sink and start seeing outside of just what was in front of him.

Once he's done cleaning up and when he feels more human, not like he's going through the worst thing to happen to him in his life on a loop; Derek stalls. He doesn't want to come outside. He doesn't want to see Stilinski. He doesn't want to fool him. He doesn't want to do this anymore. Chief Finstock was right when he said he didn't want him on this op. Derek should've never done this.

Derek spends some more time bent over the sinks, just holding on and breathing. He can't back out now. To much depends on him. He owes his parents this. He owes Isaac. He owes his family. Derek slaps himself on the face with both hands, shakes out his limbs and finally comes out of the bathroom. Stiles isn't the one to meet him though. It's Derek's favorite barista, Paige. She bites her lip and glances at where Stiles got up from Derek's seat, looking uncertain.

"Are you- Should I call someone? 911? Do you need help?" Oh god, Paige is seriously his favorite.

"No, thank you so much, Paige. He's my friend. It's just some really bad-timed food poisoning. I'm sorry for causing a ruckus."

The girl looks uncertain, but she nods at him, Derek now free to go to Stiles. Who's looking at him with a weird expression, hands fiddling with the strap of Derek's bag.

"I finally have time to surprise you at your favorite coffee shop and make fun of you for being a pretentious writer, and instead I almost make you die. Awesome. Way to go, me."

"It's not like that." Derek reaches for his bag, but Stiles moves out of his reach. They walk out of the shop and Stiles continues walking, so Derek follows him, not really caring right now about where they'll end up at.

"Alright, not die. Just puke your guts out. A great way to surprise your boyfriend. I should, like, write an article because I don't think anyone even realizes they could be doing this."

Derek wants to ask about the boyfriend bit but Stiles just keeps on talking:

"And you didn't tell me about your fanclub. That girl, whatsername, you know she's carrying a torch for you? She glared at me the whole time I was there. I didn't know you had allergies! I thought I'd be cute, you know? White lilies were my Mom's favorite flowers. Dad used to always fill our house with them on their anniversaries, and on her birthday, and... well I thought it'd be super romantic to-"

"Stiles." Derek _had_ to interveine. "It's alright. And it would've been cute. But I'm really happy you came, incident aside. I missed you."

This does make Stiles stop spiraling and take a deep breath.

"Okay. Yeah, i missed you too. But I now have to make it up to you. Big time."

"I'll allow it." Derek smiles. "But considering surprising your _boyfriend_ doesn't work so well for you, how about you tell me where we're going?"

This makes Stiles stop in his tracks and then proceed to turn his horrified face at Derek in slow motion.

"I dropped the B-word. I didn't mean to drop the B-word!" And then Derek can't help but start laughing. Because Stiles Stilinski is adorably ridiculous. "This is not funny. This isn't- Oh come on!"

He punches Derek in the shoulder, and Derek catches his hand in his own.

"I don't mind you calling me your boyfriend." Stiles still doesn't look like he trusts him, but whatever. Derek thought Stiles calling him his boyfriend was cute. And convenient. And that was what was important. "I do mind not knowing where we're heading."

"Well," Stiles thinks, making the word three syllables longer than it should be, "I didn't have any specific plans. I just got away from work early and wanted to spend time with you."

Derek smiles at the man in front of him and lets himself get lost in this moment. He knows that he'll relive the panic attack once he's back at his rented apartment, and he knows he'll relive it once he's writing today down in his 'diary', and then he'll have nightmares for weeks to come. So Derek lets himself forget about Derek Hale's sucky life and instead decides to spend the rest of the day worry-free, as Joseph Brown, who was just happy his boyfriend took the time out of his busy schedule to see him.

Derek insists on stopping by his place so he can leave his laptop there and so he can brush his teeth and freshen up, after that they go for a walk in the park. They sit on the grass and eat hot dogs made out of questionable meat. They discuss every dog that walks past them and almost conspire to steal one, because it was so cute. Once it starts getting chilly they figure they need to go somewhere warm, and with very little convincing on Derek's part, somewhere warm ends up being his place.

"That's just the gentlemanly thing to do. You poisoned me, so you have to make sure I make it home safe." Derek throws over his shoulder as he's setting the kettle.

"You can't play the 'you almost killed me' card for everything, you know? One day I'll stop feeling guilty and start guilt-tripping you instead."

"But that day isn't today." Derek smirks, turning around to face Stiles and finding him closer than he remembered him being. Stiles grins right back at him and then he's backing Derek up against the kitchen counter, eyes shining with mirth. Derek could say he was surprised at himself for doing what he did next, but, to be honest, he wasn't. Derek leaned in the last couple of inches between their faces and kissed Stiles, and it felt like the most natural thing to do.

Stiles' hand quickly found its' way to Derek's hair, scratching softly, but also pushing Derek closer, controlling his movements. The grip wasn't rough or strong, but had just enough power behind it for Derek to feel weak in the knees. He never even thought that such a light touch could be such a turn on for him. Oh, and Stiles' mouth on his? Derek wouldn't be exaggerating if he said it was one of the best kisses in his life. A leisurely push-and-pull, Stiles playing with Derek, making him follow him to reward him with a nip to his lower lip. Derek hasn't had sex in a while, but he's pretty sure it's not the lack of human contact that made his skin burn and his head dizzy, it's all Stiles.

Stiles' free hand lands on Derek's side and drags down to the waist line of Derek's jeans, making him shudder. But it doesn't stop there, instead lifting up the henley Derek was wearing, touching skin now. Derek allows himself to move after that. If Stiles doesn't want him to - he'll stop him. Derek grips Stiles by the ass, dragging him closer, between Derek's parted legs, making Stiles' kissing stutter. But then Stiles' lips are on his jaw, going lower to Derek's neck, he's kissing and biting his way down it, his hands hiking up Derek's henley, stroking and scratching, their clothed erections grinding against each other-

The kettle's automatic ping breaks the magic. Not that Derek cared, he'd be happy to keep kissing and touching Stiles, but the younger man distances himself after this, taking a few steps back, breath heavy, face flushed. Derek's a bit proud that he was able to make Stiles look so debauched.

"I didn't come over so I could take advantage of you."

"You are seriously overthinking this." Derek reaches out and Stiles lets him touch him. He doesn't want Stiles to feel guilty about what just happened. He doesn't want to feel guilty about it either. It was genuine and didn't have anything to do with the op, but Stiles thinking things like that makes Derek remember why he's in this position and right now, for a bit, for a moment, he doesn't want to.

"I know I am. I know. But, I- I don't want this to go wrong."

"How on earth was _that_ going wrong?"

Stiles chuckles and gets out of Derek's loose grip to go get them their mugs.

"Let's just drink your stupid tea for now."

Derek doesn't understand why Stiles would act like that, nor what's on his mind, but he's not going to push. Not now at least.

They settle on Derek's couch, Stiles squinting at Derek's TV before turning to face him.

"Where are your DVDs?" Derek did not expect this question.

"I... watch everything on my computer." Stiles' eyes bug out and his face takes on an expression of horror.

"But what about your favorites? What about blu-ray quality? What about director's commentary?!"

"I am guessing that whatever my answer, you're not going to like it."

"Of course I'm not! What even are you?" Stiles hangs his head in another overly dramatic gesture. "How am I supposed to sleep with you when I don't know your stance on Batman?"

The next hour or so Derek spends convincing Stiles that he does know the classics. He quotes Lord of the Rings at him and makes bad Hermione impressions, so by the end of the hour Stiles is ready to accept that Derek isn't a lost cause.

"But now we have to watch Batman."

Stiles still looks at him like he's the scum of the earth when Derek tells him he didn't install the Netflix app on his tv yet and that he doesn't own an HDMI-cable. But when they settle close to each other under the throw, Stiles hums, nodding thoughtfully.

"Alright, I'm ready to admit the advantages to not watching movies on a bigger screen." he snuggles closer to Derek and pecks him on the cheek. "No talking during the movie."

~

Stiles is the one that talks during the movie, but Derek can see his excitement, how he tries to make Derek love it just as much as he does, so he doesn't comment on it. Stiles leaves with a promise of a movie marathon at his place and a lingering kiss.

Derek's pretty exhausted after the day he had, well, after the panic attack he had, but he doesn't want to think about it. Not right now. That's why he goes back to the couch, wraps himself in the throw, presses play on a movie suggested by Netflix, and falls asleep before it gets to the good part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading this, leaving kudos and commenting! It means a lot!


	5. ...to feel alright.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It starts with Derek not feeling too good" would be an understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for disappearing! Life gets in the way sometimes. I'll try and update as soon as I can but it might take a while from now on. Also this is short, but I thought I'd better post than make you wait longer. !TAGS and RATING UPDATED!

The TV screen is lighting up with more and more explosions from the action scenes, music appropriately heroic, but Derek's not paying attention. What he's paying attention to is every point of contact he's having with Stiles right now, pressed side to side, hands itching to touch more. Derek turns his face to look at Stiles, but it isn't Stiles sitting next to him. It's John Stilinski. He smiles at Derek, teeth sharp, smile manic, and he's lunging, Derek too slow to react. Stilinski is on him, choking him, Derek too weak to fight him off. He can't breathe- he can't-

Derek wakes up shaking, on the floor, tangled up in the throw. His clothes are drenched in sweat and he can't get his limbs under control. When he manages to drag himself into the shower Derek just sits under the hot spray, trying to get himself warm and wash away the nightmare. And then he's seeing the Cage's face behind his eyelids again and the cold is back, and Derek's dry heaving, trying to get his breathing even.

Derek knows he should stick to his routine and go for a run, work out, have a proper breakfast, but there is no way he's doing any of it. Derek grabs whatever's alright to eat without having to cook and just spends the day vegging out. He orders a pizza, doesn't let himself think about the op at all and doesn't even try to work out. He'll need so much therapy after this is done.

Mieczyslaw texts him in the evening.

**how r u boo?**

The text makes Derek cringe, but he's smiling for the first time this day.

 **I'm okay. You?** He doesn't write about feeling sick for the whole day, he doesn't want to think about it and he doesn't need Stiles to feel guilty about something he had no control over.

**i won't be free to talk tonight. but i promise i'll call tomorrow!!!**

**I'll be waiting.**

Derek doesn't get a response to that. He hopes Stiles is alright. He knows the Sheriff won't harm his own son, probably. Not permanently, at least. And now he's worried. At least tomorrow he gets to talk to Stiles again.

~

Falling asleep was hard and waking up from another nightmare wasn't surprising, but still wasn't the least bit pleasant. It was a bit better than yesterday but Derek still had to spend about an hour just getting himself in order.

Today Derek wasn't going to stay indoors. No matter how much he didn't want to go out. Today Derek was planning on being so exhausted when he went to bed, that he wouldn't have a single dream.

He didn't jog, he ran, he didn't stop until his muscles were hurting, he then went to the store and bought food and made himself a proper meal, enough for a couple of days. And while the food was cooking, Derek sat down and wrote. It didn't matter how good, how bad, how entertaining. He just wrote about his hero, he gave him a name, which made it easier to write, he gave him a reason to cross the line and stop abiding by the law. He'd have it ready for Stiles to read and give his input, because obviously Derek wasn't meeting his father any time soon. For a moment Derek wonders if everything Stiles did was intentional. If he knew that Derek would react this exact way to the flowers, that Stiles was laughing at how gullible Derek was. But that can't be the case. Derek's sure of it.

He dismisses that thought and gets the chicken out of the oven. He's still restless, now more nervous than before, so Derek works out until his mind is completely clear. He's pretty tired after that and the shower he took made him relaxed enough to fall asleep, but he knows he still can't. So Derek sits down and starts typing again. This time - the sex scene. Whatever. He needs to get closer to Stiles. And he stopped minding actually having sex with him along the way. Stiles is not who Derek thought he was. He's a better man than Derek ever pictured him being. And Derek knows all about the risks of trusting the wrong person while undercover, or of falling for the wrong person. But Derek's not stupid. He's not going to just lay all of his cards out in front of Stiles and ask him to betray his father the next time they speak. But he really hopes that with time this might become a possibility.

This evening they just text again. Derek finds himself smiling at his phone when it's time to put it down. As he goes to sleep he tries not to think about anything, just Stiles, his voice, his hands, his smile...

~

Derek wakes up in a sweat, distant images and screams still there with him. It's better than before, so Derek starts his day with another exhausting run. After taking a shower Derek heads for the coffee shop in hopes to see Paige. He's not sure, but he thinks she might be worried about him after the last time he visited.

She's not at her usual spot by the counter, so Derek decides to wait just in case Paige will show up, instead of ordering to go. He's sitting at his usual spot, drinking the chai latte he ordered, reading over Stiles' texts, when someone sits in the chair next to him. Derek thought it might be Paige but he's surprised to see a woman he doesn't know. She's got dirty-blonde hair and Derek's pretty sure her bust isn't that exposed for the sake of female empowerment, especially when she leans in closer and twirls a finger through her hair.

"Hi, stranger. I kept seeing you here every day, trying to gather up the courage to talk to you, but then you disappeared. So I told myself: Next time you see him - you have to say hi." She pauses before smiling up at him, her smile more predatory than anything. "Hi."

She doesn't look like the kind to have to gather her courage for anything, but Derek guesses she might be really nervous or something.

"Oh! I'm Kate by the way." She reaches out for a handshake and Derek clumsily accepts, having to put his chai down first.

"Joe." Derek was always awkward at talking to strangers. But now it's worse, Derek not being himself at the moment, not knowing if this Kate was someone sent in by the Sheriff, too many thoughts racing through his heads at once.

"Alright, Joe, I have to ask. Since we're already at a coffee shop. How about you get me a coffee and we call this a date?" When Derek was younger he could've folded under this kind of pressure, would've found it hot even. But right now he's just not feeling it. Partially because of having Stiles in his life.

"Uh... Kate. I already- I'm actually-"

"What? In a relationship? Who isn't?" Alright, even younger Derek wouldn't be turned on by that.

"Kate, listen-"

Derek's eyes bulge out when he feels the woman's hand on his thigh. What the hell? Derek is frozen, not sure how to even react and then Derek's saved by a voice of an angel.

"I am so sorry to interrupt, but there's a call for you, if you'd just follow me." Derek lets out an involuntary sigh and jumps to his feet. He nods an apology at Kate and follows Paige away from her.

"You are my guardian angel. You are the best, Paige." Derek whispers.

Paige turns to face him, a smug smile on her lips.

"I know."

Derek puts a hundred in the tip jar as they're passing it and thanks Paige one more time before she lets him out through the back door.

"You're still going to insist you're not in trouble?"

"Sadly, this is just what my life looks like."

~

That evening Stiles ends their texting with a: **oh and make sure u r free tomorrow bcause tomorrow we go to MY PLACE! YAY!!!**

Derek doesn't even have time to reply before Stiles is following it up with: **but really, i hope you r free because we can meet up any other time.**

**I am. I'll be looking forward to it. Yay :)**

Stiles sends him a kissy emoji. 

Derek falls asleep smiling.

~

It's midday when Derek receives a call.

"Hi, boyfriend. So I'm already almost at your place, ready to pick you up. But then I remembered that you don't spend your days by your window waiting for me to show up. So where are you so I can drive there?"

"Looks like you were right to think that my life revolves around you, because I am at home and I'm walking to the window right now. There. I am now sitting by my window just the way you wanted me. Does it get you hard?" deadpans Derek.

"Oh my god, when did you get a sense of humor? How did that happen?" Stiles laughs. "I'm all fired up and ready to ravish you, so get dressed, pack your dildos and come on down. But, seriously, I'm almost there."

Derek's been waiting for this call since he woke up, so he's ready. He just has to grab his bag, throw on the leather jacket he's grown fond of, and he's ready.

Stiles arrives in a black SUV and makes a couple of mom car jokes "just so Derek doesn't have to". He chatters all the way to his place, Derek figures he's nervous. Derek's pretty nervous too, so he gets it.

The place looks freshly rented and Derek sees that smart fast-witted man he now knows Mieczyslaw Stilinski is, once again. Maybe it was his bodyguard that suggested it, or maybe he's hiding his sex life from his father, but for some reason - he is not okay with letting Derek into his real home. This place is just too clean, too picture-perfect. On the other hand, Derek could be overthinking. Maybe Stiles hired a professional cleaning service just to get the place ready for Derek. But for some reason it's easier to imagine Stiles renting out a new apartment just to hide his life from his father.

"Alright, feel yourself at home. The bathroom and bedroom are over there, the kitchen is here," Stiles points in a different direction from the bedroom. "And here is my glorious TV that we are going to do research for your book on!"

"What?" Derek isn't sure what Stiles means, until he sees Stiles filling up his arms with a bunch of DVDs.

"Gangster movies! Also cop movies. I've got the best collection."

This is not at all what Derek hoped for when Stiles told him he'd help him with research for his book, but Derek supposes he'll just have to work harder at getting that information.

"Awesome."

"Aw. You don't sound excited. I thought you'd be excited."

"I am." Derek really should keep himself in check. He's not here for pleasure or for fun. Derek smiles. "More excited about spending time with you than the movies."

"Podstępny jesteś, miłości ty moja." _*You're very sneaky, my love.*_ Derek's not sure if he should let Stiles know he understands what he's saying, so he just lifts an eyebrow. "I said I come with the movies. It's a package deal."

Stiles deposits the DVDs on the table in front of the couch and strolls over to the kitchen.

"Look, I even bought tea for you, don't you just love how considerate I am?"

~

They watch movies. Like, seriously, for real, they actually sit down in front of the TV and start watching movies. Not that it was bad or anything, but it reminded Derek too much of the nightmare he had. And of his op that wasn't going anywhere.

Derek tries to pay attention and be invested in it, he really tries, but his thoughts stray and Stiles notices. Because he presses pause and when Derek turns to look at him, Stiles is already facing him, eyes concerned.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"No," is what Derek starts with, but then he shakes his head. "Yeah, alright, I... am a bit concerned."

Stiles lifts his eyebrows, prompting Derek to keep talking.

"I am happy you want to help me with my book, but I kind of hoped that if I came over... well, that watching movies wouldn't be the only thing we'd get to doing."

Stiles squints at him and gives him an assessing look.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because I'd like to think you do, but you still haven't finished that thing I asked you to write..."

"I did."

"Oh." Stiles looks surprised for a moment but then he's smiling a pleased smile and Derek can't help but smile back. "So you did." Stiles' expression changes again in a flash of an eye and he slaps Derek on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?! Why didn't you send it to me?"

"I kind of forgot." Derek fumbles for his phone. "You could read it now."

Stiles takes a hold of Derek's hand holding up the phone and gently pushes it down.

"I would love to read it. But the main reason I wanted you to write it was for you to be sure you want this and for you to get comfortable with the idea of us having sex. So if you don't mind, I'd be happy to read it. But not right now." Stiles pauses, licking his lips and looking up at Derek through his lashes. "I'd love to kiss you though."

Derek nods, eyes involuntarily darting to Mieczyslaw's lips, and then Mieczyslaw is pulling him in with a hand on the back of his neck. His fingers scratch through the short hairs on the back of Derek's head, making Derek sign into the kiss. And it's on.

They don't start slow, the both of them too eager, too impatient. Shirts are shucked aside and belts and zippers are fumbled with to get skin on skin. Stiles maneuvers them so that Derek is straddling his thighs, making it so easy to grind against each other, to follow Stiles' hands on his ass that are tugging him closer, stroking up his back, gripping him tighter, scratching through his stubble. All of it makes Derek feel like he's drowning but in the best way, like he never wants to come up for air, content to just breathe Stiles in for as long as he'll let him.

Derek returns the attention he was given with just as much passion and urgency, trying to get a hold of any part of Stiles within his grasp, stroking and squeezing and scratching. Their kisses didn't have any finesse to them, more biting and panting into each other's mouths the further they got.

Derek's pretty desperate when Stiles pulls away from him enough to say: "We're going to the bedroom. Up. Up-up"

Derek scrambles backwards and the moment he straightens up Mieczyslaw leans in to nuzzle his happy trail. His hands grab Derek's jeans and start pulling them down, along with his underwear, Stiles mouthing at Derek's lower abdomen, nibbling on his pelvic bone. He kisses Derek's thighs when he helps him out of each jean leg, dragging the socks with them. And then Stiles is touching his dick, grip firm but unexpected. Stiles licks his lips before dragging the foreskin down with a stroke of his hand and then he leans in and swallows Derek's cock down till his mouth meets his fist.

Derek isn't sure how his knees don't buckle just from that, but then Stiles starts bobbing up and down and using his tongue, oh god. Derek moans, losing control of his voice. That's when Stiles stops, giving his slit a couple deliberate licks.

"C'mon." He smiles up, tapping Derek's thighs. "Bedroom!"

~

Sex with Stiles is great. Amazing. Mind blowing. They don't use any ropes, or handcuffs, or gags; Stiles doesn't slap him and doesn't make him bruise. Not much. And yet Derek's powerless against the younger man's touch, following him into kiss after kiss, holding his hips down when Stiles would press down on them, bobbing his head, mouth and tongue working on Stiles' cock, while Stiles' hand in his hair lead him where he wanted Derek to be. And Stiles didn't even go beyond using his fingers. Oh god, those fingers.

Stiles cleans the both of them up after, makes Derek drink water and serves them ice cream in bed. He reads Derek's 'erotica' commenting on it in a way that should've sounded obnoxious, but just made Derek feel like he cared. They finish watching the movie and after some more making out and dry humping Derek leaves. Stiles insists on ordering him a taxi and Derek doesn't protest. Stiles says he's got business early tomorrow morning, otherwise he'd definitely have Derek sleep over.

All the way back Derek tries to just stay in this bubble of happiness, of being blissed out from having sex, of having Mieczyslaw's warmth next to him, on not thinking of anything else. But it all comes crashing when the door closes behind him.

He has the presence of mind to lock the apartment before he's running to the bathroom, prepared to puke his guts out. He doesn't. But his stomach aches and he can't even look at himself in the mirror, his own face bringing on a wave of nausea.

Derek knows he has feelings for Stilinski. He's not sure he'd be able to sleep with him without liking him. Which is so stupid, because this is an op and it doesn't matter what he feels. But Stiles doesn't know about any of it. Even if he likes Stiles, he is, at the end of the day, using him. And after receiving so much care and so much love from the young man, Derek just felt sick to the stomach. Sick of himself.

Derek splashes water on his face and slides down to sit on the cold tiles. He couldn't back down now. And he wasn't going to. But it seemed like he wasn't going to feel good about it while doing this either. He'll need to buy something for his ulcer because he's got a feeling remission is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know Polish, so I am very sorry if my phrasing is wrong. I know it's not a literal translation. It's more about the meaning, than using the same words. The connotation, if I'm making sense.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to everyone who left me kudos, comments and bookmarked this! This means a lot!


	6. ...to make sense of things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some plot, some - not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one's short and once again i took so long to post it.  
> there's a panic attack in here and i feel like i'm forgetting to warn you about something, so tell me if there's anything i should tag or add to the notes

Routine is good for maintaining some semblance of control, that's why next morning Derek jogs at a normal pace, not the mad pace he was running at to get away from the nightmares. He ends his jog at the coffee shop, stopping by to buy himself a green tea and a muffin. While waiting for his order, he gets approached by Andy, a barista with a grudge against Joe Brown. They both try to avoid each other when possible, so this is pretty weird.

"Joseph."

"Andrew." Derek feels ridiculous. The guy looks like he'd rather be doing anything else, than stand here and talk to Derek. And yet he's still standing there, face determined.

"Paige is in the hospital." Derek feels air leaving his lungs and his resolve to feel better and make the most of the day shatters. He wants to ask what's wrong, but Andy lifts a hand up to stop him. "She got into a car accident. There's no permanent damage, but it's not good."

Derek waits patiently for Andy to say anything else. The boy's eyes are bloodshot and he's biting his lips. Derek can see that he really cares about Paige. He seems to get his emotions under control after breathing in and out a couple of times.

"You know I don't like you. But Paige does. And, like, you are her- whatever. Anyway, I think she'd be happy if you visited her. She's at the nearest hospital. Santa Monica Urgent Care. Room 206. Krasikeva. Her last name is Krasikeva. She likes poppies."

And just like that any plans Derek had about having a good peaceful day go out the drain. He hopes Paige is all right.

~

Derek gets a large bouquet of poppies for Paige and watches her blush, unable to control the smile from appearing on her face. Her leg is in a cast and she tells him she has a couple of cracked ribs. Her cheek is scraped, as is her arm on the right side. She swears she's alright but Derek sees it for the false bravado it is.

They talk for a while, exchanging numbers when the doctor comes for a check in. Derek promises to write and to visit her again if she's not out in a couple of days.

He's on his way to the staircase when there's a voice, calling out his name. His fake name.

"Joe! Hey, Joe!" Derek stops in his tracks. He knows that voice. And there aren't really a lot of people that know him as 'Joe'. Hearing it fills him with dread.

"Joe! Fancy seeing you here!" Kate, from the coffee shop, circles him, one hand on Derek's arm, squeezing. It doesn't feel sexual. It feels like a threat. "You look healthy. What are you doing here?"

"You don't look sick too. Why're _you_ here?" Derek takes a step back, Kate crowding into his space again without batting an eye.

"Oh, I'm visiting my dear old father. His health just isn't the same as it used to be."

"I'm here to see a friend." Derek curses himself for saying anything the moment he shares even this bit of information. He doesn't owe Kate anything. He should just go. "You know, Kate, I'm in a hurry-"

"Poor Paige. I can't believe someone would do this to a pretty girl like her. So sad."

Derek feels his blood run cold. His brain argues that she could've had a way to find out about Paige. Could've figured out she was the friend Derek was visiting. But the other part of Derek's brain is screaming at him to get out. Because he's pretty sure Kate was the one to run Paige over. And he's even more sure that it was his fault. Derek was pretty sure Kate was a stalker.

"This seems like fate. Are you still dating? Or did you get over it and want a taste of the real deal?" somehow she's even closer now, almost pushing her breasts to his chest, hands back on Derek's biceps.

"No, uh," Derek steps back, like an animal trapped, trying to find a way out. "Still in a relationship, I'm afraid." He sidesteps the woman in front of him and rushes for the stairs, not inclined to stay a second longer.

Kate throws a "See you!" at his back, making Derek run even faster. Once he's safely locked inside his car, Derek calls the hospital administration and asks them to keep an eye on Paige, just in case. They didn't sound dismissive, but Derek decides that he'll call Boyd just in case. He doesn't care what it'll take, he's not ready to put Paige's life on the line.

The further he got away from the hospital, the more his brain spiraled. He was almost a hundred percent sure Kate was a stalker at this point. But now his brain was screaming at him that she could be working for John Stilinski. That she was there to test him, in the most fucked up ways. That the Sheriff found out about Stiles being in a relationship and wasn't going to make it easy on Joseph Brown. He hopes he's wrong, that it's just paranoia, but right now he can't rule anything out.

~

Left alone with his thoughts, Derek doesn't think of anything better than to turn to Mieczyslaw for help. He's not going to tell him about his problems, obviously, he needs some more time to process all of it. To decide what he could tell him about and if he even should. No, Derek's going to ask Mieczyslaw for something.

Derek's read up on spanking, he knows about the different ways to do it and about the different reasons. Derek doesn't want a sexual kind of spanking. He wants to be punished. No matter how cliche it sounded. Kind of getting what was coming, for all the lies and deception. And for Stiles to dole out this punishment felt right. In the end he needed Stiles to make him feel better and he needed to be punished for that too. . He wanted the sting, the pain. He wanted to be free from the thoughts that were eating him up alive.

Derek doesn't send a text, because he doesn't feel like seeing his request in writing. But he doesn't think he can look Mieczyslaw in the eye when saying this. So he calls. They talk for a bit, but Stiles figures him out pretty quick.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, but you didn't just call to chat, did you?" his voice was sure and even though he didn't command Derek to answer, it felt a little bit like it, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.

"No, I... wanted to ask you for something."

"Yes?"

Derek takes his time, inhaling and exhaling before speaking:

"I want you to spank me."

Stiles doesn't hesitate with his answer and it makes Derek feel a little calmer.

"Is there any particular reason you want to try that?"

"Just..." Derek trails off, not wanting to give a complete lie. "I'm in my head too much. I want to stop it and I think this'll be a good way. If- you think so too?"

Derek hates how unsure he sounds. What if Stiles tells him no? Will he start begging now? Should he?

"Alright. Anything involving your ass is a 'yes' for me." Stiles' voice is chipper and Derek can't help but feel like it's fake, even though he's pretty sure Stiles isn't putting on a front.

They talk some more about it. Stiles asks questions, helps Derek formulate words. They decide on the limits: just the hand for the first time, Derek doesn't want to talk during the spanking, so Stiles tells him that he's not allowed to. During and before. Derek agrees. Easily. They've gone through all the rules and boundaries twice, when Stiles asks:

"Are you free right now?"

It's unexpected, even if it shouldn't be, but Derek agrees, without having to think about it.

"I'm going to send a car for you. When you come over you won't speak except when I ask you to. When you come over I want you to come find me in the bedroom and listen to every word I say."

Derek gulps.

"Yes."

~

Derek's heart is beating so loudly in his ears he worries Stiles will hear it too. The road to Stiles' was scary, Derek's nerves getting the best of him. But it was also so thrilling. The adrenaline just made Derek that much eager to go through with it.

He knocks, just in case, before opening the door, left unlocked for him. The lights in the apartment are dimmed and he sees a strip of light coming from the bedroom door. There's no going back now. And Derek finds that he doesn't want to back out of it. He locks the door behind himself and cautiously makes his way to the bedroom, his heart just becoming louder as he got closer.

Mieczyslaw is there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing grey striped slacks, a matching vest and a black shirt, first two buttons unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Derek's mouth fucking waters at the sight in front of him.

"Come in. Close the door."

Derek does as told, beginning to feel underdressed for the occasion in just his jeans and a henley. But he'll hopefully be getting out of them soon, so that would have to be good enough.

"What is the word you're going to use when you want me to stop?"

"Garden." Derek says the word they agreed on on their phonecall. It was neutral enough to not warrant any questions and personal enough for Derek, without having to explain his reasoning behind the word to Mieczyslaw.

"Very good."

Stiles pats his knee with one hand and, when Derek walks up to him, stops him with a hand on his thigh.

"Now I want you to pull your pants down below your knees. Leave them on, leave your underwear in place. Color?"

"Green." is Derek's immediate response as his hands are working on his belt. He's not taking it slow, he doesn't think Mieczyslaw wanted him to, or he would say it. Once he's done he gets a "Very good." and fucking preens under the praise.

"Now I want you to lay across my lap, right here."

Derek complies without second thought, practically flinging himself at Stiles' lap, legs spread to accommodate Derek's weight. Stiles shifts him around, hands moving Derek the way he needs him, almost making Derek whimper.

"Now plant your hands on the ground. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Good." the praise is punctuated with Mieczyslaw's hand stroking Derek's hair and going down his spine, ending on his ass with a squeeze to a cheek.

Derek's on edge. His breathing fast, heartbeat faster, his muscles tense. But Stiles just keeps stroking his clothed ass, squeezing and massaging it lightly, making Derek loose some of the tension. He knows Stiles' the expert here, and Derek's not allowed to talk, but he's not sure that this is how it should be going. Until there's a whoosh and a loud slap in the quiet of the room, Derek's cheek stinging momentarily, before Stiles' hand is rubbing at it again, taking away the pain. Then another swat, to the other cheek, repeating the motion.

And then Stiles is delivering a series of slaps on one cheek, and then the other, making Derek jerk and squirm against his leg. The air is knocked out of Derek's lungs and he's left gasping for it with every new slap.

Halfway through Derek realizes he wasn't counting. Stiles never told him to, but maybe he should've. And then Stiles stops, and what if he asks now? What if Derek can't answer? Should he guess?

"Color?"

"Yellow." Stiles told him to be honest with him and that's what he's going to do.

"What is it? You've become all tense all of a sudden." Stiles strokes his back and ass, that is now buzzing with the sting. Not painful, but enough to not fade.

"I- I wasn't counting." Stiles doesn't stop stroking him at that, keeps going.

"Good. I didn't ask you to. This time isn't about it. Just concentrate on what you're feeling. Color?"

"Green."

This time the slap is harder, making Derek grunt and shift his hands to get better purchase on the floor. And then his underwear is dragged down below his ass, leaving it exposed. The next slap makes Derek shout out. He's so ready for the next one, so when it doesn't come, Derek arches his back a little, pushing his ass higher, mouth salivating, ready to beg, if he didn't know Stiles didn't want him to speak.

That's when he gets exactly what he wanted. It's slap after slap, relentless, not waiting for Derek to adjust, no more pauses. It's just slap, after slap, after slap, making Derek drift away, forget about concentrating on anything but holding his arms as straight as he could, keeping his balance.

~

When Derek comes to, he's warm and everything feels soft, hands carding through his hair, stroking his shoulders, arms, back. His butt stings and his eyes are puffy, so he must've started crying at some point.

"Hey, hey, you're back. My perfect wonderful good boy is back." Derek smiles, feeling punch drunk, rubs his cheek against Stiles' chest. "You've been so good for me. Can you talk to me?"

Derek doesn't want to talk. He wants to cuddle and for Stiles to stroke him some more, but he also wants to make Stiles happy. He hums something that he hopes Stiles will interpret as a yes.

"I am very proud of how you took it. You made me very happy. Now I want to know how you're feeling."

"Good." Derek slurs the word a little, but it's the truth and Stiles should know it.

"Good." echoes Stiles. "I took your pants off, they're right next to us if you want them."

Only then does Derek register that he's still in his henley and his underwear is back on.

"No. No pants."

"Good." Stiles kisses his forehead, making Derek want to get a kiss on the lips too, but he's too lazy to move right now. "I rubbed your butt with a special lotion so it wouldn't sting so bad and you had some water, but I want you to drink more. Could you do that for me?"

Derek thinks he remembers. Drinking the water from a straw, Stiles rubbing his aching butt. He can do anything for Stiles.

"Yeah. I can do that."

Stiles gives his forehead another kiss, praising Derek for being good, and leans away from him. Not for long though. That's good, because Derek really doesn't want him to go. So he drinks his water and they lay together, Derek shifting to get more comfortable, to get a little closer to Stiles' lips. The makeout is sloppy and could barely be called making out, but feels amazing. Relaxed and soft and all that Derek needed right now.

They're in bed, just laying side by side, Mieczyslaw thumbing through his phone, when Derek realizes he has a great view at the screen. Stiles' got a couple of conversations going, the one opened right now with someone called 'Teenage Werewolf Ninja Scotty', so it's most likely the Scott Derek's seen already. Scott's latest IM reads:

**u've got work to do.**

And Stiles is now typing a reply that's just:

 **i don't really wanna do the work today i don't really wanna do the work today** with a note emoji at the end.

Scott's writing a reply when Derek realizes what he's been doing just now. He stiffens, the breath he took just a moment ago stuck in his throat. He's still staring at the phone but he doesn't see anything in front of him, his eyes zeroing in on one spot, the chip on the left lower side of the phone, while the rest of the world swirls around it, around Derek, making it impossible to move, to breathe, to blink.

He knows Stiles is moving and talking, because the chip leaves his sight and there's a voice in the swirling world around him, only the words aren't reaching him. Derek thinks he's being moved around, or maybe he's just falling, his hand is caught and pressed against a solid warmth, another point of heat pressed against his chest. At first it's just there, but then Derek's lungs seem to catch on to something and he starts breathing in with the hand as it moves. In.. and out. In...

"And out. In... And out." The voice comes through. Stiles' voice. And right now Derek hates a little how calming it is to him. It is though. Calming. And soon enough he's breathing normally, his vision isn't zeroed in on one spot and he's shaky but he can move.

"How- Do you need anything? How are you?"

"I- water. Some water." Stiles scrambles to get him the water without breaking contact, hand still on Derek's chest. Derek drinks, the cold water making him feel a bit better, hoping that Stiles would just let it go and not ask Derek any questions. He knows it's unrealistic. And the moment he sets the water bottle on the bed, Stiles taking it from his hands and screwing the cap on, he's asking:

"What happened just now?"

And what _can_ Derek answer? That detective Hale has a job to do and his instincts took over? That he felt like the scum of the earth looking in on Mieczyslaw's personal correspondence? That it felt even worse right after Mieczyslaw made him feel so good and so relaxed?

"I don't know. I just- I- no idea." He feels a wave of nausea from lying and his damn stomach starts hurting. He hated it. He hated it!

"I..." Stiles is silent, just studying Derek's lying face. He would be right to throw him out that instant. Just kick him out the door and never let him come back. "I don't know what happened, but I want you to stay over tonight. Do you think you could do that?"

And this is not at all what Derek expected. Mieczyslaw shouldn't trust him like that. For his own good.

"I understand if you wouldn't want to," Stiles keeps going in the silence that Derek left hanging between them. "But I think we both need it."

"I'll stay." Derek's mouth is saying before he even has the chance to think about it. "I want to stay."

Stiles strokes the hair sticking to his forehead away, kissing it.

"I'll get you some fresh clothes and you take a shower." He pauses. "If you want - I could go with you. Help you. Or just sit close by."

"No. I'll be fine." he probably won't, but he needs to be alone for a bit.

Stiles doesn't question him, just nods and goes to rummage through his closet. With a handful of clothes and a big fluffy towel, he leads Derek into the bathroom, tells him to holler if he needed anything, to be extra careful with his butt, and with a squeeze to Derek's hand, he leaves.

There are a thousand thoughts fighting for attention inside Derek's head as he goes through the motions, but he lets the sound and feeling of the water on his body lull him into a false sense of security, pretending that all the voices in his head aren't there. Concentrating on just taking a shower, nothing else. Not right now.

When Derek comes out, towel wrapped around his waist, the clothes Stiles gave him left untouched; Stiles is there, waiting for him with a worried expression he's not bothering to hide.

"I ordered Chinese. Because Chinese is the best comfort food. But I can get us something else if you don't want it."

"Chinese is fine. Thank you."

They eat in silence and Derek _feels_ Stiles vibrate with pent up energy, with questions. So it isn't a surprise when, just as he's chewing through a mouthful of eggroll, Stiles goes and asks:

"What was that about? I need to know. This is important. Everything seemed fine, but then- Please, can you tell me?"

Derek hates himself. He hates himself so much.

"It's my job." Derek lies. It is his job's fault, but not the one he's going to tell Stiles about. "The editor won't stop calling and at this point I'm just lying to him about the progress that I'm not making. Because the book is going nowhere and it's not like I'm not trying..." Derek heaves a deep sigh, hand automatically going to rub at his eyes.

"Do you want to go back home and write?"

"No." Derek shakes his head. He doesn't want to leave and go 'home' to the apartment that's supposed to be his home. He wants to go to his actual flat. To the worn out couch with a shaky armrest, to his favorite mug, to paintings on the walls, to his bed, to Laura and his friends.

"Do you want to borrow my computer and write here?"

There's bile in Derek's mouth and his stomach is in knots. This would be so good for the op. This might be exactly what he needs.

"Maybe." He concedes. He can't outright say no, no matter how much he wants to. He guesses it even sounds believable, his struggle. If he were actually writing a book. Being under pressure from his editor, having writer's block. 

"Alright, that's good. You can stay and do whatever you need."

Stiles places his hand on the counter, palm up, extending it to Derek, but giving him the choice to accept or not. He does. Without having to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be longer, but then it'd just take more time to post, so here.  
> also, sorry for not responding personally to all the amazing feedback i received! i appreciate it so much! it is what kept me going and writing whenever i had the chance to!!


End file.
